The Guardian
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: Geppetto is gone, and poor Pinocchio is left all alone in the cold, dark world, with no friends or family and with nowhere to go. Little does the boy realize, however, that an angel is watching out for him...
1. Chapter 1: The Discovery

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Presenting my sixth story, as well as my first story that doesn't have to do with Narnia. This time, I'm writing about Pinocchio—one of my childhood heroes, and still a dear favorite to this day—and my own character, Terence. _

_This story is a bit of a tearjerker, so brace yourselves. Though I'll try to not go overboard, I'd strongly advise keeping a tissue or two handy. Feedback is expected!  
_

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Discovery**

It was a cold, stormy night at the Collodi village. Thick clouds blackened the sky while the rain poured down in steady sheets. Occasionally a fork of lightning lashed across the sky, followed by an ominous rumble of thunder. Most of the villagers that night had enough sense to stay inside their cozy cottages, where they could sit next to a nice fire and enjoy a piping hot cup of tea, with an almond biscotti or a _pasticiotto. _

However, one solitary figure could be seen tramping through the streets.

The figure was wrapped in a long, heavy cloak, black as the night itself, that went past his ankles. His hood was drawn all the way, obscuring his face and granting him some protection from the rain and winds.

A jagged streak of lightning sizzled overhead, temporarily filling the sky with an otherworldly white glow. The dreadful thunder that followed two seconds later seemed to shake the very earth. "What a night," the stranger muttered to himself as he waded through the street, which was already flooded ankle-deep. "I don't know why I ever thought coming to this place was a good idea to begin with." Glancing around the silent, inactive parish, he added dryly, "It's like the town of the dead here." He sighed, shook his head, and adjusted his hood so that his face was shielded a little better.

As he continued to wander, keeping his eyes peeled for an inn or tavern—or any place at all that was dry, and preferably warm, where he could rest himself from his travels and get a bit of peace—he thought he heard something, something quite distinctive from the drumming of the rain and the growling of the thunder.

It sounded almost like…someone crying.

Puzzled, the hooded man stopped and looked all about, listening intently.

He heard the sound again; it seemed to come from a nearby alley. Tentatively, the man began to approach that alley. The nearer he drew, the more the sound intensified.

It certainly resembled the sound of sobbing, and genuine concern now began to gnaw at the edges of the man's heart.

Inside the alley, it was quite narrow and quite dark. There, the man received a little more relief from the merciless rain, though not much.

As he rounded a corner, he stopped abruptly and stared. What he saw sent immense waves of compassion washing through him.

A small boy that looked to be made entirely out of pinewood was huddled alone in a shadowy corner, under a small projection that kept him from getting too wet in the storm, though he had nothing to keep him warm. From where he stood, the hooded man could see thick, pearly tears spilling from the boy's eyes, running off the end of his long wooden nose that stuck out like a sausage, and the man knew the boy was shaking with more than just cold.

"Don't worry, Pinoke," a nearly inaudible voice was saying. "Everything will work out, somehow." Taking a step closer, the dark figure could just make out a small cricket perched on the boy's knee. The cricket was dressed in a black tailcoat and wore a blue top hat about the size of a pea, and he clutched a miniature umbrella in one hand that looked totally unbefitting for a storm like this.

"I want to go home," the little wooden boy moaned in a voice that sounded no older than that of an eight-year-old. He gulped and sniffled as more tears slid down his nose.

The pitiful sight got the better of the man, and he promptly moved forward to see if there was anything at all he could do to help. The boy already had his face sunk into his gloved hands, so he didn't see anyone coming. The cricket took no notice of the approaching figure, either. When the man stood under the projection with them, he discreetly cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Pardon me."

With a start, the boy and the cricket looked up at the same time to face him.

"Is everything all right?" the man asked them in a soft voice. He lowered himself to one knee on the paved stones, so that he and the puppet were more level with one another. However, when he stretched forth his hand to touch the boy's shoulder, the boy immediately shrank back, as if expecting the man to hit him. "No, no…it's all right," the man said gently, hearing a faint whimper. "I won't hurt you."

But the boy continued to cower, like the man was some demon sent to claim him. The man figured it must be his black cloak and his shadow-eclipsed face that gave the child such a fright.

So, in an effort to make himself appear less formidable, he lowered his hood to his shoulders, revealing his face.

He was exceptionally handsome, for a man. Although he was quite young, his hair was almost pure white, as was the thick goatee that adorned his chin. His hair was short and trim at the back, though his bangs trailed nearly to his bottom lip. Long, thick sideburns framed his face, which was lean but well-formed, with a high, smooth brow and cheekbones, enhanced by deep blue eyes that shone like a pair of sapphires. Above his left eye was an odd mark shaped like a crescent moon. What was even odder was that this mark was a vivid shade of blue, and it glimmered like a jewel even in the dimmest light. You could tell immediately that this man was no common man.

The wooden lad dared to look up somewhat into the man's face, but he still trembled all over and he continued to cower like a terrified animal in a cage.

"Please don't be afraid," the man entreated him. "I mean you no harm." In spite of the shining whiteness of his hair, from the way he looked and sounded, he seemed hardly a day older than twenty.

The boy straightened his posture just a little, but he held his tongue, though tears continued to ooze steadily down his cheeks.

"My name is Terence," the white-haired man continued, now offering a gentle smile, trying his best to sound friendly. "What is your name?"

"P-Pinocchio," said the boy with a sniffle.

"And my name is Jiminy," said the cricket on the boy's knee. "Jiminy Cricket, to be precise. I am his conscience…well, in a manner of speaking."

"If I may," Terence asked the boy named Pinocchio, "what are you doing out here all alone, in this wretched weather?"

Pinocchio tried to brush away his tears, but they kept falling, retracing their salty trails on his face. "I-I'm lost," he faltered. "I-I have nowhere to go. And I'm c-cold and s-scared and h-hungry." He choked up and could say no more.

Overcome with pity, Terence drew the sobbing puppet closer and enfolded him in his sturdy arms, holding him as a mother would hold her distressed child. Although he was soaked from his walk in the rain, Pinocchio was already wet from being out in the storm too, and seemed to neither notice nor care about the difference. The forlorn puppet made no attempt to pull from the embrace, but the feel of Terence's arms made him want to cry harder.

So that was just what he did.

"There, there," Terence soothed. "It's all right. It's going to be okay…"

He held his little friend against him for a few minutes, stroking him, murmuring quiet words of comfort into his ear, and Pinocchio cried until he'd cried himself down to hiccups.

When at last the tears ceased to flow, when Pinocchio managed to calm down and breathe more easily, Terence loosened his grip on him and told him and Jiminy, "Now, come with me. We must get you to some place where you can warm up and dry off, perhaps get a bite to eat as well. There must be an inn or some place close by that would suit us all. If you'll stay close to me, my cloak will keep you from getting utterly soaked until we get there."

"I don't know," said Pinocchio wearily. "I'm so tired. I don't think I can walk so far."

Jiminy nodded. "We both had a rather rough day," he confessed to Terence.

"Well, then, here—let me carry you," Terence offered. "Let me carry you both. I'm sure neither of you weigh much. And even if you did…well, I'm stronger than I look," he added with a light chuckle, attempting gentle humor.

He held his hand out to Jiminy, who didn't hesitate to hop into his palm. "Oh, that's very kind of you, sir," said Jiminy appreciatively as Terence lifted him to his shoulder. "Very kind indeed."

Terence drew up his hood once more, making sure it covered him and Jiminy both before he scooped Pinocchio off the ground.

In spite of himself, Pinocchio couldn't help smiling a little. He had no idea who this man was, but he was immensely grateful to him.

Once Terence was sure both Pinocchio and Jiminy were reasonably comfortable, he climbed to his feet and headed out once more into the pouring rain. The thunder continued to crash wildly around them, and the wind howled as fiercely as ever. It seemed the storm would never end. Pinocchio was afraid, but Terence maintained a steadfast hold on him, and the man's cloak did help the puppet stay dry; or, rather, it kept him from getting any wetter than he already was. Paying no heed to the frigid water washing over his feet and seeping rapidly into his boots, Terence moved along the street at a brisk pace.

Within fifteen minutes, he stumbled across an open inn. A sign that hung over the door read, in big block letters: THE RED MOUNT INN. It wasn't much of a sight, but it looked dry and comfortable enough. Terence could see several lights in the windows, which meant they had to be open for business. He therefore set Pinocchio down carefully on his own feet and took the puppet's hand in his own.

"Shall we?" he asked grandly before he opened the door.

Pinocchio nodded, though somewhat uncertainly.

Pushing the door just far enough, Terence slipped into the building, taking Pinocchio and Jiminy, along with a bit of the rain and wind, in with him.


	2. Chapter 2: The Red Mount Inn

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

___Presenting chapter 2! This part is quite short, but rather amusing. It adds just a touch of comic relief to my otherwise serious story. Hope you're enjoying yourselves so far, fellow readers! I know I'm enjoying myself.  
_

___A word of caution: do not read on an empty stomach.  
_

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**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Red Mount Inn**

Inside the Red Mount Inn, it was certainly a great deal drier, and a great deal warmer. The smells of tobacco, ale, wood smoke, spices, and roasting meat permeated the air. The light was rather dim, but not so dim that you could not see where you were going; and, of course, there was that occasional flood of blue-white whenever lightning struck outside, while the thunder rattled the walls. The rain pelted against the windows like the beat of a thousand drums. Once inside, and once he'd shut the door, Terence pulled back his hood once more, letting it rest on his shoulders. Jiminy promptly leaped down from the young man's shoulder, while Pinocchio adjusted his feathered cap.

Together, they walked up to the innkeeper, who was slouched lazily behind a warped wooden desk. He was a rather big bulk of a man, with a broad, flabby face, a decent bald patch, and a bushy mustache that curled at both ends.

He reminded Pinocchio very much of old Stromboli.

"Excuse me," said Terence, "but we would like to check in, please."

The innkeeper gave such a start of surprise at the unexpected voice that he nearly fell out of his chair. Pulling himself up straight, he quickly slapped on a welcoming smile. But when he saw Pinocchio, rain-soaked and mud-spattered, he immediately became furious and barked out, in a thick, rather unrefined accent, "_Ach!_ What is the meaning of this? Get out of my inn this instant, you little street scrap!"

Pinocchio backed a few steps, looking terrified.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Terence spoke up mildly, "but this boy is with me."

"What are you thinking, man?" the innkeeper now shouted at him. Pointing a fat finger at Pinocchio, he stormed on, "Dragging this piece of riffraff onto my property, expecting me to cater to him like some pompous young mogul—you must be daft, man! I am trying to run a business here, not look after rascally, impudent, trouble-making boys!"

"I don't ask for your charity." From his belt, Terence extracted a large pouch filled with money. Holding it up for the innkeeper to see, he continued, "I'll cover the costs myself."

The sight of the pouch wiped the scowl from the man's face at once. His eyes widened and his mustache bristled.

"Now, tell me," said Terence, "how much do I owe you? I'll spare no expense."

Snapping himself out of his money-induced stupor, the innkeeper cleared his throat and grumbled, "Er, it is three pieces of silver for room and board, my good sir." In truth, the cost for room and board was two pieces of silver. But the innkeeper knew a wealthy man when he saw one, and he was always eager to pinch an extra penny or two, whenever possible.

"I'll give you ten pieces of silver, if you will let the boy and me stay for as long as need be." So saying, Terence poured ten gleaming silver coins into his palm and slapped them onto the table.

Now the innkeeper sang a different tune.

"Oh, my," he said to Pinocchio, with a pretentious air of pity. "You poor, poor child. You must be so dreadfully tired and cold and hungry. I know just how to remedy that situation. Right this way, my dear boy."

He led Pinocchio and Terence into the dining hall, with Jiminy hurrying along in their wake. The innkeeper made his guests sit at a table that was reserved for very important people. The table stood next to a stone hearth, where a radiant fire crackled away. Pinocchio tentatively took a seat, and Terence sat directly across from him. Within a minute, Jiminy joined them and sprang up onto the table, where he sat next to a glowing candlestick.

"Now," said the innkeeper when they were all seated, "what would you care to eat this evening?"

Terence glanced meaningfully at his little friend. "Pinocchio?"

Although Pinocchio was desperately hungry, and could easily eat everything they had on the menu, he forced himself to swallow and said, "Just some bread and water, please."

"Oh, nonsense," said Terence with a dismissive flip of his hand. "A growing boy like you needs good, well-balanced nourishment." He gave the innkeeper five additional silver coins, telling him, "Give us two orders of everything you've got."

"Your wish is my command," said the innkeeper, bowing deeply before disappearing into the kitchen with a greedy grin on his greasy face.

Soon, Terence and Pinocchio were enjoying a splendid supper of meat, hot soup, freshly baked bread, cottage cheese, and an assortment of vegetables, with a choice of hot tea or warm milk to wash it all down. Jiminy would have willingly picked a bit here and there, but as he was quite famished himself, he managed several corn kernels, a whole wedge of bread, half a block of cheese, and an entire thimbleful of tea in one sitting. Although Pinocchio tried to maintain good table manners, he couldn't help taking larger bites than usual, nor could he repress a few moans as he wolfed down his supper. Food had never tasted so good.

Pity tugged at Terence's heart as he watched the little lad scarf his food. How long had it been since the boy last had a proper meal?

_Poor child,_ Terence thought, shaking his head.

When they'd finished the last bite of their dinner, the innkeeper lavished them with a sumptuous dessert of pudding, pies, cakes, and bonbons full of sweet syrup. Afterward, Pinocchio leaned back in his chair and sighed.

Now that he had a full stomach, and now that he was warm and dry, he felt much better.

Jiminy felt a great deal more comfortable as well.

While the boy and the cricket relaxed, Terence poured himself what must have been his sixth or seventh cup of tea. After taking a fortifying draft, he pushed what was left to the side, and the young man now leaned in closer to Pinocchio, lacing his fingers together prudently on top of the table. "Now, my little wooden friend," he said, "tell me what it is that brings you and your…er…conscience, or whatever you call him…to this part of the village, on a night like this."


	3. Chapter 3: A New Friend

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

___Well, it took me longer than I expected, but I finally have chapter 3 figured out. So here you are! This part's quite short, yet extremely sweet and touching. Read on, friends. _

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

******Chapter 3: A New Friend**

Pinocchio said nothing, but merely turned away from Terence, a look of deep distress on his face.

"Pinocchio?" said Terence after a minute or so of complete silence, silence penetrated only by the occasional snap of the fire in the hearth and the periodic boom of thunder from outside.

Still, the little wooden boy would not speak. Even Jiminy looked troubled.

At length, Pinocchio closed his eyes and lifted both hands to hide his face, shaking his head from one side to another.

"Pinocchio, are you all right?" Terence asked. Reaching across the table and touching the boy gently on the shoulder, he implored, "Please, talk to me. What happened?"

Eventually Pinocchio lowered his hands and raised his head to face Terence again, but even then he refused to say a word, although he looked ready to fall to pieces.

"If I may, sir," Jiminy spoke up, "could this wait until later? I don't think Pinoke wants to talk about it tonight."

"No, I don't," Pinocchio agreed vigorously. "I really don't."

Terence sighed and bowed his head in defeat. But he gave in. "Very well. It is rather late anyhow, and I imagine you two must be exhausted."

Pinocchio and Jiminy both nodded.

Terence was feeling quite weary himself, so he rose to his feet, saying, "Come along, then."

Perhaps Pinocchio would be more willing to speak to him once he'd had a good night's rest, the young man figured.

They all approached the innkeeper, and Terence requested, "We wish to turn in for the evening."

"Very well," said the innkeeper good-humouredly. "Allow me to escort you to your rooms. This way, please." He guided Terence, Pinocchio and Jiminy down a long, narrow corridor, up a narrow flight of stairs, and down another hall.

In about ten minutes, he presented his special guests with their rooms. Pinocchio's room was on one end of the hall; Terence would be staying in the room at the other end. "The rooms are rather humble, I'm afraid," the innkeeper said, "but they will keep you dry and warm. And the mattresses are stuffed with clean straw, and the rooms are free of rats and the like."

That suited Terence and Pinocchio well enough.

The innkeeper then stuck out a pudgy hand, obviously expecting Terence to pay him a tip, but Terence mistook the man's gesture and simply shook his hand, saying, "Thank you a thousand times over, sir, and goodnight."

With that, he followed Pinocchio into his room without another word, closing the door firmly in the innkeeper's startled face.

Inside the room, it was mostly empty save for a bed, a massive trunk at the foot of the bed, a wooden chest of drawers, a small stand with a large basin for washing, and a mirror on the wall. Despite the simple decor, it was quite cozy, with no drafts or leaks. A window at the far end granted Terence and Pinocchio a remarkable view of the village—or it would have been were it not for the storm, which seemed to worsen by the minute. The flow of water washing down over the window was so thick that you could hardly make out anything. Only the lightning and a small candlestick kept Terence, Pinocchio, and Jiminy from being in total darkness.

While Pinocchio gazed about the room, Terence pulled off his cloak, which was still a little damp, revealing simple but very fine clothes.

He hung his cloak on a hook near the door, then turned to his wooden companion and said, "All right, then, time for bed."

He scooped Pinocchio up once more and set him down on the bed, taking his feathered hat from him and placing it on top of the bureau, while Jiminy opted to make his own bedding in one of the partially open drawers. Pinocchio settled back against the crisp pillow, and Terence spread the thick quilt over the boy and tucked him in. "There you are," the young man said benevolently. "Goodnight, Pinocchio. I shall see you in the morning."

Before he had a chance to leave the room, however, Pinocchio impulsively grabbed hold of his sleeve and pleaded, "Please stay with me, Mr. Terence. Don't leave me alone."

"It's all right, I'll only be across the hall—" But Terence's words died on his lips as he regarded the look on Pinocchio's face.

Though he didn't make a sound, Pinocchio's lower lip began to quiver, and his eyes shone with a fresh coat of tears.

Not wanting to upset the poor boy any more than he already was, Terence sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his little friend into his arms, whispering, "Don't worry, Pinocchio. I won't leave you. I'll stay right beside you tonight, every minute."


	4. Chapter 4: Pinocchio's Dream

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Finally got the next chapter of this little Pinocchio tale figured out; and so, without any further ado, here you are! Read and review, s'il vous plaît!_

**

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Chapter 4: Pinocchio's Dream**

True to his word, Terence remained faithfully at Pinocchio's side the entire night.

While the boy slept, Terence lay on the bed next to him, fully clothed, his arms gently cradling the child's body, while the storm raged and fumed outside their window.

As Terence kept watch over his small friend, Pinocchio dreamed he was walking through a massive meadow of fresh spring flowers.

The dream started off simply and sweetly enough: the sun shone warmly overhead, the sky was a bright, cloudless blue, the air was fragrant with the delicate scent of the soft blossoms, and all around Pinocchio was an endless, brilliant sea of red and violet and marigold. As Pinocchio skipped joyfully along through this rainbow field, with hardly a care or worry in the world, he stopped abruptly upon noticing a lone figure standing at a considerable distance, watching him. Looking more closely, Pinocchio recognized the figure as Geppetto, his old father, and the gentle-mannered toymaker of the Collodi village. Pinocchio's heart leaped at the sight of him, and the boy did not hesitate to race excitedly in his father's direction.

Just before he reached Geppetto, however, the sky suddenly went utterly dark. A great, powerful gust of wind picked up, tearing the flowers straight from the ground, ripping them into shreds. The next thing Pinocchio knew, Geppetto was gone from his sight, as if blown away with the flowers, or as if he had never been there at all to begin with.

Though Pinocchio wailed desperately for his father, over and over again, the old man was nowhere to be seen.

"Pinocchio!" a sudden voice called out, cutting into the nightmare, bringing the boy out of his reverie with quite an unpleasant jolt.

Gasping shallowly for breath, Pinocchio glanced anxiously about to find himself back in his room at the Red Mount Inn, with Terence towering over him, looking down solicitously at him. Jiminy was perched on one of the bedposts, also surveying the puppet with great concern. As it was yet nighttime, the room was still quite dark. But the storm appeared to have finally subsided somewhat, for there was not nearly as much thunder and lightning now, and the drumming of the rain had quieted down considerably.

Terence had just barely started to doze off himself, when Pinocchio's sudden squirming and fidgeting aroused him. The boy's anguished cries had also wakened Jiminy from his own sleep.

"Pinocchio—what happened?" Jiminy asked frantically.

"Are you all right?" Terence added, looking and sounding every bit as frantic as he helped Pinocchio sit up. "What's wrong?"

Pinocchio merely took one tearful look at Terence before hurling himself impulsively against the young man's chest, very nearly sending the both of them over the edge of the bed as he did so. The next thing Terence knew, his little wooden friend was clinging to him for dear life, as one who was drowning clung to a life-saving cable in the midst of a turbulent, wind-tossed sea. Sobbing freely, Pinocchio buried his tormented face in Terence's chest and held him tight, as if Terence could somehow shield him from the awful memories that threatened to engulf him. Terence hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on with Pinocchio, but he willingly wrapped the stricken puppet in his strong, gentle arms, and allowed the lad to cry.

"Shhh," the young man whispered soothingly, while the poor boy sobbed his heart and soul out. "It's all right, Pinocchio. It's all right. I'm here. It's going to be all right."

Pinocchio, of course, was weeping far too hard at the time to answer, but he burrowed deeper into Terence's front. His scrawny arms tightened their grip, were such a thing possible.

At a loss of all else, Terence simply sat there with him and continued to offer quiet words of comfort and reassurance to the boy, and he stroked and caressed Pinocchio's violently quaking body with as much tenderness as if he were calming his own child.

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	5. Chapter 5: Stretching the Truth

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_And we're back to this story again! Boy-howdy…it's weird, bouncing back and forth between stories like this. But, it's a lot of fun, too! _

_Anywhoozit, I present the latest chapter of my little Pinocchio tearjerker to you. This is where things get, how shall we say, stretched out a bit. Read on and you'll get the idea. _

**

* * *

Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**

* * *

Chapter 5: Stretching the Truth**

Ultimately, Pinocchio managed to stop crying. But even after the boy's sadistic sobs had abated and his supply of tears had run dry, his wooden frame continued to shake, and he refused to relinquish his grip on Terence. Terence did not ask his small companion to let go, nor did he try to pry Pinocchio off him. As much as it wounded his heart to see the poor child reduced to such a state, it also touched him that Pinocchio wanted him for company and comfort. "Are you all right, Pinocchio?" he asked the child again, at length. With one arm still encircling the puppet, he slipped his free hand under Pinocchio's chin, and gently lifted the boy's face to his. "What is it?" he went on solicitously. "Did you have a bad dream? Was it truly that terrible?"

Pinocchio said nothing, but Terence heard him give a piteous whimper, like a mewling kitten that was trapped out in the rain. Terence had never seen a child so upset. "Come on, tell me about it," the young man encouraged, as he shifted his position on the bed so that his long legs were stretched out in front of him, and drew Pinocchio up into his lap.

Pinocchio looked toward Jiminy, who merely said, "Go ahead, Pinoke. Tell us."

But Pinocchio couldn't find the courage to tell Terence, or Jiminy, the true nature of his dream. So, he did the only thing he could think of to do—he made it up.

"I was walking through a big field of flowers," he began truthfully. "Everything was bright and happy for a while…and then I saw something."

"What did you see?" Terence queried.

This was where Pinocchio veered away from the truth.

"There were these two great big monsters," the boy fabricated, "with great big yellow eyes, and great big teeth."

No sooner had he spoken these words than his long nose abruptly sprouted an inch longer.

Terence nearly started at the sight. But he made no mention of this, and simply said, "Monsters, you say, huh? Weren't you afraid, Pinocchio?"

Pinocchio nodded timidly, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt that churned in the pit of his belly as he'd told the outrageous lie.

"I turned around and ran away from them as fast as I could, but they came after me."

With that, his nose shot out another two inches.

Jiminy knew from past experience that Pinocchio's lengthening nose meant the boy was not telling the truth. The cricket closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay, but Terence said, "Go on, Pinocchio. What happened next?" The young man tried his best to not focus on his friend's abnormally elongated nose, though it was certainly not easy to do so.

"They chased me to the edge of a cliff. It was too deep and too dark for me to see the bottom. The monsters were right behind me…"

Pinocchio spent the next five minutes elaborating false details. By the time he had reached the end, his nose was well over a foot long, and he had to duck his head to avoid jabbing Terence in the face. Jiminy said nothing, but he remained where he was, gazing down at Pinocchio with a look of sorrow, pity, and disappointment on his face. Pinocchio felt his face and his insides burn with shame and humiliation, and he disconcertedly put his hands over his eyes. "Is that what you really dreamed about, Pinocchio?" Terence asked at length.

"No," said Pinocchio miserably, after a long moment of willful silence. "No, it wasn't. I lied, Mr. Terence. There were no monsters in my dream, or any of that. I made it all up."

He had hardly finished speaking when his nose instantly became shorter, and resumed its original size.

Terence didn't understand what had just happened, but he could see Pinocchio was mortified enough as it was.

Therefore, he didn't press the boy, or ask any awkward questions. Rather, he continued to sit with him and hold him, and all he said to the child was, "It's all right, Pinocchio. It's all right."

Pinocchio felt stupid for lying to his new friend like that. Yet the puppet wasn't about to tell Terence the real reason for his anguish—or ever at all, if he could help it.

It was all the boy could do to keep it all inside, all he could do to maintain his very sanity. Revealing everything was far more than his already shattered heart could take. Without another word, he closed his eyes and lay forlornly against Terence's strong breast, allowing the white-haired youth to cuddle him. He tried to draw comfort from Terence's warmth and strength; but even with Terence's arms encircling him, and his mild hands caressing him, Pinocchio felt as alone and desolate as he'd ever felt in his life. Even his night as Stromboli's hostage had been nowhere near as dark as this night. Eventually, Pinocchio's emotions overcame his physical strength. Before he knew it, he'd drifted off to sleep once more, right in Terence's arms.

Even then, Terence remained wide-awake, and he continued to abide with the boy.

To Jiminy, the young man questioned softly, "What _is_ the matter with him?"

Terence knew this little cricket was well associated with Pinocchio, and therefore had to have some idea of what was going on in the child's life.

Jiminy, however, looked Terence very sadly in the face, and told him ruefully, "I'm sorry, sir…but I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"Why not? Surely you must know what's been happening with this poor boy."

"Sure, I do," said Jiminy, "but this is solely Pinoke's story to tell. I can't tell it for him. If you sincerely wish to know what had happened, you must wait until Pinoke is ready to tell you, if ever he is ready. Until then, I must remain silent. I don't wish to leave you in ignorance, sir; but this is a matter of trust, and I cannot betray that trust."

Just before he leaped back into his drawer to return to sleep himself, the cricket added on, "But I will say this—Pinoke has been through far much more than you realize."

With that, he bid Terence goodnight, and returned to the bureau without another word.

Before long, Terence was the only one in the room with his eyes open.

Outside, the rain trickled quietly down, and a faint grumble of thunder sounded every now and again. Looking down sorrowfully upon the sleeping child within his arms, Terence thought in his heart, _Oh, Pinocchio…why won't you trust me? Can't you see that I only wish to help you? I know we have just met each other, yet I feel this strange sense of duty to shelter you, to protect you from harm. But how can I do this, if you will not let me in? How can I ever truly care for you, truly be of any help, if you cannot confide in me?_


	6. Chapter 6: A Stranger at Breakfast

**THE GUARDIAN**

_Presenting part 6! This chapter's a little more cheerful than the last one, and this is where the official villain is introduced.  
_

_After much debate, I decided it would make my story richer if there was a bad guy lurking about. We're already done with Stromboli and Honest John (this story takes place after Pinocchio served in the theater, just so you know), and I nixed the Coachman. I wanted something that was a bit more of my own thing. Thanks for reading, and I especially thank you for the wonderful reviews! I never realized the story would get this much attention, let alone this much positive reception. _

_With luck, the rest of this will live up to your expectations. _

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

******Chapter 6: A Stranger At Breakfast**

By the time morning arrived, the storm had ceased at last. The skies were still gray and dull, and everything was cold and dripping wet. But at least there was no more thunder and lightning, and the rain no longer pounded down. When Pinocchio opened his eyes, he found himself nestled snugly under the quilt—but Terence was no longer beside him. This jolted Pinocchio wide-awake at once, and the puppet sat up with a gasp.

But when he looked to one side, he saw, to his enormous relief, that the young white-haired man stood just on the other side of the room.

At that time, Terence was bent over the washbasin, using his hands to splash cool, fresh water against his face. Every now and then, he looked up for a breath before ducking his head and dousing himself thoroughly again. After several minutes of this, the young man finally straightened up and reached for the towel. As he dried off his sopping face, he looked to find Pinocchio watching him from the bed.

"Good morning, Pinocchio," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "Glad to see you're up and at 'em. I trust you slept all right?"

"I guess so," said Pinocchio, which wasn't particularly true. But it wasn't a total lie either, so his nose did not shoot out again, much to his and Terence's delight and relief.

At any rate, there had been no further repetitions of the nightmare—or any other harrowing dreams, for that matter. Pinocchio didn't know whether to take that as a good sign.

Then Jiminy emerged from his drawer, yawning and stretching out his minuscule limbs. "Ahh…morning, all," the half-asleep cricket murmured.

"Good morning, Jiminy," Pinocchio said.

"Hello, Jiminy," said Terence, wiping the last bit of his face dry and folding his towel neatly in half. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in ages," Jiminy admitted as he rubbed his eyes.

"Looks like the storm's finally cleared up," Terence remarked, now glancing out the window.

Pinocchio looked out the window as well, and felt a deep relief.

"About time, too," said Jiminy. "I thought that storm would never end."

"It was quite a squall, all right," Terence said. "I'd never seen anything like it. Well, at least it's over now." He turned to Pinocchio once more. "So, Pinocchio, are you hungry? Would you like to join me for some breakfast?"

Pinocchio was already starving again, despite his big dinner, so he agreed.

So Terence helped him retrieve his cap from the bureau. After Pinocchio had freshened up a bit himself and donned his hat, he and Jiminy followed Terence downstairs.

The innkeeper met up with them as they came into the dining hall. "Good morning, my most special guests," the man said, greeting them with an elaborate bow at the waist that made him gasp a little.

"Thank you, sir, but that really isn't necessary," Terence told him. "We're not royalty."

But in the innkeeper's eyes, anyone who could afford to fritter away fifteen pieces of silver in a single evening _was_ royalty. However, he just smiled at Terence and Pinocchio and led them to their table.

Already, heavenly aromas from the kitchen were invading Pinocchio's senses, and his mouth immediately began to water while his stomach twisted into a knot of hunger. As he had done the night before, Terence placed the order for them; in no time, they were enjoying a hearty breakfast. Once again, Pinocchio tried to chew and swallow his food properly, but Terence knew it would take some time to fully calm the boy's hunger.

Aside from them, there were a handful of other people scattered about the room. Some were already eating, while others were talking quietly. Two or three men toward the back could be seen puffing on long pipes.

Hardly anyone seemed aware of the wooden puppet sitting with the white-haired youth; and if any of them were, no one said a word about it.

Throughout the meal, Terence did his best to act as kindly and cheerily toward Pinocchio as possible, asking him on occasion how his boiled egg was, whether his porridge was too hot, or if he would care for more milk.

"Here, help yourself to more bread," he would say. "And you should give these sausages a try; they're really quite excellent."

The man's thoughtfulness toward him consoled Pinocchio. The little puppet managed to smile a bit as he accepted the loaf and the platter of plump, juicy sausages, and once he mustered the courage to ask Terence for more sugar for his porridge. He immediately felt himself flush bright red at his own boldness, but Terence just smiled and very graciously passed the sugar bowl in his direction.

Unbeknownst to either of the two, or to Jiminy, one of the smoking men had his eye on them.

This man was dressed in very fine clothes, and he had slick black hair that cascaded to his shoulders, along with a long, thin black mustache that curled at both ends. His face had a rather pale, bony look to it, as if he hardly got enough to eat. He was known as Fabrizio, or Master Fabrizio, for he was the leader of a very prominent circus, called (fittingly enough) Fabrizio's Expo. The company featured clowns, trapeze artists, jugglers, knife throwers, torch blowers, and virtually everything. At that time, the man had been sitting alone at his own table with a shot of ale, inhaling and exhaling incessantly on his pipe while he brooded over how to improve his revenue—for his company was suffering from financial distress, due to demanding expenses and a rather unpleasant decline in profits. Upon sight of Pinocchio, his attention was instantly snagged, like a fish on a line.

_Well, well, _he thought, _what have we here? A pinewood marionette who lives, breathes, and moves freely about without the aid of strings._ A rather nasty smile played at the corners of the man's thin mouth._ Well, a rare phenomenon like that ought to be worth something to someone__…_ As he was thinking this, he slowly pulled in another breath on his pipe, and he just as slowly breathed out again, sending a snakelike plume toward the ceiling.

When Terence and Pinocchio were through with their meal, and Jiminy had eaten as much as he could hold, they all relaxed for a few minutes. Pinocchio was secretly glad that Terence did not ask any questions concerning his personal life. At the same time, Terence figured that, perhaps, if he could persuade Pinocchio to trust in him, the boy would eventually open up to him and tell him everything he wanted to know.

Until the boy gained enough confidence to unchain his heart and loosen his tongue, Terence decided the best thing to do in the meantime would be to simply be there for him, to just be his friend.

"Thank you, Mr. Terence," said Pinocchio at length. "You've been awful nice to me."

Jiminy nodded wholeheartedly. "Indeed, sir, you have been most kind," said the cricket. "If only everyone in this world had a heart like yours."

"Think nothing of it." Terence smiled at them both. "I just did what anyone would have done."

Pinocchio smiled back. It was a small, shy smile, but a smile all the same. The puppet had only known Terence for one day, yet he felt an odd connection with the young man, a mutual bond of some sort.

In Pinocchio's eyes, Terence was like an angel—a beautiful, blue-eyed, white-haired angel, sent to him during his time of trouble and loneliness.

"So, what would you like to do today?" Terence asked. "Now that the weather is a little more welcoming, is there anything you'd like to do, any place you'd like to go?"

Before Pinocchio could open his mouth, an unfamiliar voice broke in: "I have a suggestion." The voice was low, rich and smooth, with a flavor of honey mixed with gunpowder. Surprised, Pinocchio and Terence (and Jiminy) turned their heads at the same time to see Fabrizio standing at their table. The man had both hands folded behind his back, and he regarded them with eyes as dark and unlit as dim coals.

"Huh?" Pinocchio gasped, scurrying back a little in his seat at the sight of the stranger.

"Who are you?" Terence asked.

"Begging your pardon," said Fabrizio, bowing low enough to be polite. "I could not help but overhear your little conversation. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Master Fabrizio—director and chairman of Fabrizio's Expo."

"Fabrizio's Expo?" Terence repeated incredulously. "What's that?"

"That, my good sir, is the name of my circus."

"A circus?" This caught Pinocchio's interest right away. "You mean, with clowns, tigers, lions, and elephants, and balloons and cotton candy?"

"All that, and much more, my dear boy," Fabrizio assured him.

From behind his back, he produced a large, colorful, ever so slightly crumpled flyer, and gave it to Terence.

"If you and the lad are interested, my good man," he said, "we are presenting a show this very evening. It will be held just on the other side of town."

Holding the flyer in both hands, Terence studied it closely. At the top of the page, it read, in big, bold letters: **PRESENTING FABRIZIO'S EXPO**. Below the title, in smaller print, it read: _**THE MOST MARVELOUS, MAGNIFICENT, MAGICAL SHOW IN ALL THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE WORLD**_. The rest of the flyer explained the details of the show that was scheduled for that evening; here and there, several vibrant illustrations graced the ad.

"Hmm…looks promising to me," Terence said.

"As is my standard, sir," Fabrizio said. "I guarantee you won't be disappointed."

Looking at Pinocchio, Terence asked, "What do you say, Pinocchio? Want to go?"

"Really?" Pinocchio's eyes widened at the prospect. "You mean it, Mr. Terence?"

"Why not? It would give us something to look forward to. And I can certainly afford it."

Pinocchio faltered. "I…I don't know…"

"Oh, come now," Fabrizio cajoled. "It's not every day the circus comes to town, you know, boy. And it's not every day that you receive a_ personal_ invitation from the director himself. So, do we have a deal?"

"Come on, Pinocchio," Terence said. "It will be fun." He added meaningfully, "And I daresay you've earned the right to have a little fun."

"Will you be there with me, Mr. Terence?"

"You bet I will. I'll stick to you like glue."

Pinocchio hesitated for one more minute before answering slowly, "Well…all right."

Terence's face brightened. "Wonderful!"

"Excellent," said Fabrizio with a nod of approval. "I shall see you then, and I shall see to it that two seats are reserved specially for you. Until we meet again, I bid you all good day."

So saying, he bowed to them one last time, then he turned on his heel and walked away.

When he was gone, Terence looked down at the flyer in his hands one more time. "Well, I must say," he said, "that was most generous of the man."

Pinocchio had to agree. In spite of his feelings of sadness, the puppet felt the tiniest drop of anticipation for that night's events.

Perhaps an evening like this was just what he needed. At any rate, it would give him at least a little respite from all the misery he'd endured these past few days.

Jiminy, on the contrary, was a little skeptical about Fabrizio. Try as he might, the cricket couldn't shake the feeling that the man might be up to something.

Why would this circus director, whom they'd neither seen nor spoken to before this morning, waltz up to them out of the clear blue and give Terence and Pinocchio the royal treatment?

_There is something rather fishy about that man, _Jiminy thought.

Terence and Pinocchio never knew it, of course, but Fabrizio left the inn with a sly, sinister grin on his face, like a fox that knew it had the rabbit cornered, or a spider that had caught hold of a nice, juicy fly.


	7. Chapter 7: A Scent of Suspicion

**THE GUARDIAN**

___And here we go with chapter 7! Boy-howdy, I'm having loads of fun with this. Then again, writing is a blast when you know what to write and you can successfully apply it to paper. I think I finally have a clear idea of where this story is going. That's saying a lot, considering how long and hard I struggled with this in the beginning. As usual, I expect reviews for this. True artists always like to know their work is being noticed, and they especially love knowing people enjoy their work. _

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

* * *

******Chapter 7: A Scent of Suspicion  
**

Later that same day, Pinocchio sat on the edge of his bed in his room, watching Terence while the young man freshened up for that evening. As he had done that morning, Terence stood over the washbasin, which was filled to the brim with new water, and rinsed his face repeatedly, using his bare hands. Pinocchio waited until the young man had lifted his head before he asked him, "When do we leave, Mr. Terence?"

The puppet had never had the chance to look at the flyer himself, and he wouldn't have been able to read if anyway, even if he'd wanted to.

"The flyer said the event's scheduled for six o' clock," Terence said, glancing sideways at him. "That gives you and I about an hour to get there. It shouldn't too terribly far of a walk, and, as I can well imagine, a circus should not be impossible to find." With that, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and bent down once more to splash another double handful of water against his face.

While his friend washed, Pinocchio studied his hands, which rested quietly in his lap. Next to the boy, Jiminy stood on the bedspread and watched both him and Terence, though the cricket never said anything.

Jiminy had been meaning to speak to Terence all day about Fabrizio, but he wanted to do so when Pinocchio was not in the same room.

Naturally, getting a private moment with Terence had been next to impossible, since Pinocchio stuck to the young man like glue, refusing to get more than ten feet away from him.

When Terence straightened up for the last time, gasping and dripping, he groped for the towel and proceeded to dry off. "This is going to be perfectly splendid," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "We'll have a wonderful time!"

"I suppose," was all Pinocchio could say.

Terence's keen ears caught the note of melancholy in the boy's voice. "Are you all right?" he asked, looking solicitously at his companion as he lowered the towel to the counter.

He knew he'd asked that question at least a dozen times already, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know his little friend would indeed be all right…and not just in the physical sense.

Pinocchio made a subtle movement that was somewhere between a nod and a shrug. The truth was, the puppet didn't know if he was truly all right—or if he ever would be. He still wasn't about to admit it, but he missed his father dreadfully. Had things turned out differently, Geppetto would have been the one taking him to the circus. Though a part of Pinocchio did look forward to this special outing with Terence and Jiminy, he felt a strange emptiness at the same time. He even felt a stab of guilt at the prospect of having a good time, while his father…his poor old father…Pinocchio closed his eyes and shook his head to rid himself of the painful thought.

Seeing this, Terence made a prompt beeline in Pinocchio's direction. As soon as he reached him, he knelt on the hard floor in front of him, as one praying for mercy, and he folded the boy's small, gloved hands into his own.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly, his eyes emanating gentle concern. "Because there's still time for you to change your mind."

"No," said Pinocchio adamantly. "No, I want to go, Mr. Terence." As this wasn't a downright lie, his nose didn't give him away by shooting out like a tree limb.

The boy still felt embarrassed and guilty about last night's incident, even though Terence had never once spoken of it and appeared to have put the matter out of his mind.

"Suit yourself," was all Terence said.

"Excuse me, Terence," Jiminy spoke up just then, unable to stave off the matter any longer, "but could I have a quick word with you, in private? Now, if you wouldn't mind?" He glanced meaningfully toward Pinocchio at the last bit.

"Certainly," said Terence. Turning to Pinocchio once more, he suggested, "Why don't you head on downstairs, Pinocchio, and wait for me in the lobby?"

"But I want to stay with you," Pinocchio protested.

"I'll only be a minute. Just sit quietly and be a good boy until I come for you." Seeing the look on Pinocchio's face, Terence smiled and said, "Hey, it's okay. It's not like I'll suddenly vanish into thin air, or anything like that."

Pinocchio sniffed a bit, although he did not cry. (He'd certainly done quite enough of _that _already.) Terence now moved one hand to the boy's cheek, cradling it tenderly in his palm.

"Don't worry, Pinocchio," he said in his most soothing tone, "you and I can afford to be separated for one simple minute. And I'll be right there, I promise."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Pinocchio hated to be separated from Terence, even for that one minute. But he yielded to his friend, and he slid down from the bed and made his way out the door without another word.

Terence continued to remain on his knees as he watched the puppet leave the room. When the wooden lad was gone from his sight, he sighed. He marveled at how attached Pinocchio had grown to him within the short time they'd known each other. Did the boy truly think Terence would somehow disappear if he ever stepped away, and never come back? What could have happened to the poor child to traumatize him so, to make him this insecure and afraid? Terence didn't like to pry, but neither did he like being kept in suspense like this. His heart literally ached with the yearning to know the answers. But he told himself to be patient, remembering what Jiminy had said about waiting until Pinocchio was ready to reveal the whole story. These things couldn't be rushed; otherwise, it could cause far more harm than good.

Snapping himself out of his reverie, the young man shifted his attention to the cricket at his side. "So, Jiminy, what is it you wish to speak to me about?"

"Well," said Jiminy, "it's about that man we met with this morning, that Master Fabrizio."

"What about him?" Terence asked, propping up one knee and resting his elbow against it.

"I don't have a good feeling about him."

This took Terence somewhat by surprise. "What's not to like about him? Sure, I'll admit the man appeared somewhat queer…but he was very gracious, especially in inviting us to this event."

"That's just it. Why _would_ the man extend such a proposal to us? We don't even know him, and I highly doubt he knows an inkling about us. And someone of such high status, who owns such a prestigious company, would not go around throwing out such invitations to total strangers like candy and sweets. I suspect this man might be up to something, and though I don't know what that 'something' is, I don't like it."

Terence looked away for just a moment as he contemplated Jiminy's words. Now that he truly thought of it, it _did _seem a bit suspicious.

Perhaps Fabrizio had acted a little too friendly toward them that morning.

Terence didn't know the man, not enough to know what he was really like. And while he didn't know Jiminy all that well yet either, he had to admit the cricket made a good point. Since he was Pinocchio's conscience, the cricket would have to know somehow, be able to sense when trouble was at hand. At length, the white-haired youth offered the cricket a light smile and said, "Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to truly worry about, Jiminy. All Fabrizio has done is invite us to a show. One night at the circus oughtn't cause anyone any harm. I say we take him up on his offer, for Pinocchio's sake, if nothing else. God knows the boy could do with a little cheer and excitement."

Jiminy shook his head. "All the same, Terence, I can't say I completely trust that man."

"Don't worry," Terence reassured him. "I'll be right there with Pinocchio, every step of the way. I'll personally see to it that no harm comes to the boy."

Knowing the young man was right, Jiminy smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. "Ah, well," he said, "it's just in my nature to worry for Pinoke's safety, being his conscience and all that. Perhaps I am getting myself into a fret over nothing. Still," the cricket added in a hushed voice, his face growing troubled, "trouble has a tendency to follow that boy around. And, as it is with overall life, you never can tell what might happen."


	8. Chapter 8: Diversion and Disgrace

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Oh, boy, this chapter took forever to write. I worked on just this one alone for well over a week. But it was worth it, seeing how it turned out. _

_Out of all the chapters I've written thus far for this story, this one is the longest, the most complex, the most exciting—and the most fun to write! This one takes place at the actual circus, and in order to make sure my depictions of the circus and the acts were fairly accurate, I had to do a bit of research. Then, it was all a matter of putting everything together. _

**

* * *

Chapter 8: Diversion and Disgrace**

It was a splendid circus. Terence had certainly been right about a circus being impossible to miss, particularly one such as the Fabrizio Expo.

When Terence and Pinocchio and Jiminy arrived at their destination, with Terence wrapped once more in his long black cloak (he kept his hood down, since the weather was a great deal friendlier this evening), they were surprised at the number of people present, as well as just how stunning the circus itself appeared. Clowns in brilliantly colored suits with brilliantly painted faces walked around outside the arena, giving away free balloons to the children, as well as pulling outrageous expressions and performing hilarious capers that had their spectators nearly doubled over in laughter. Several jugglers tossed large and astonishingly sharp knives expertly from hand to hand. Two tall men in close-fitting black tights practiced a series of impressive handsprings and back flips, as well as vaulting right over one another's heads, their complicated body leaps and twists proving how remarkably flexible they were.

Pinocchio watched in awe as another man inserted the fiery end of a burning torch into his very mouth, and exhaled an enormous jet of flame skyward that made everyone gasp and back away.

"Quite the show, isn't it?" Terence commented to Pinocchio. The young man had to raise his voice considerably, in order to be heard over the din of the music, the laughter, and the shouts of sheer delight. Pinocchio, knowing Terence didn't expect him to answer, said nothing. But he continued to look around in wonder; even Jiminy, who was perched on Pinocchio's shoulder so as to avoid getting squished, was impressed. Despite the circus's ongoing problems, it still produced a fine turnout this evening nonetheless—at least in this town.

Pinocchio soon got quite intimidated by the dense crowd that pressed in on him from every side, so Terence picked him up and set him on his own shoulders.

Here, Pinocchio received a much better view of the sights; somehow, the new perspective gave him a strangely good feeling.

Terence wove his way expertly through the throng of people, until at last he reached the high, colorful pavilion in which the actual show would take place. True to his word, Fabrizio had two private seats in the front box reserved just for them, and the man had sent one of his employees ahead of him to guide Terence and Pinocchio to their spot.

"How about that?" Terence declared. "Front-row seats!"

Even though Fabrizio's employee told Terence that the seats were free of charge, and that he was not obligated to pay to view the show, Terence still tossed him a silver coin anyway, insisting it was only fair he pay for admittance like everyone else. The employee eyed the coin closely for a moment, then he bit down on one side of it, just to be sure it was real. When he was convinced it was genuine silver, he looked at Terence like he was a saint, and withdrew from the man's presence with an elaborate bow, saying fervently, "Thank you, sir. _Thank you._"

As Terence gently removed Pinocchio from his shoulders, Jiminy leaped onto the railing of the box, and surveyed the ring around them. The whole place was filled to overflowing; as far as Jiminy could see, there was not one other box or one other seat that was not filled in. The entire pavilion swarmed from top to bottom with people of all ages, adults and children alike.

Many of the children were so eager and so impatient for the show to begin that they could hardly keep quiet.

"Well!" Jiminy mused. "Looks like a sell-out."

"That's a circus in itself," Terence added with a chuckle, as he regarded the horde himself.

He and Pinocchio took their seats, but Pinocchio insisted on sitting on Terence's lap. Terence did not object; after all, this was a very good sign. It meant Pinocchio was warming up to him, that he was gaining the boy's trust. So he let the puppet climb onto his knees, and he enfolded the puppet gently in his lean, strong arms and held him.

In this manner, Pinocchio could close his eyes, and at least pretend it was his father holding him.

When a vendor selling refreshments came by, Terence bought Pinocchio several candy sticks, as well as a bag of peanuts, a cherry tart, a whole cloud of cotton candy, and a caramel apple. He himself declined, as he claimed caramel stuck unpleasantly to his teeth, and he didn't care much for peanuts, either. Pinocchio found some pleasure and comfort in the food, especially in the pastry, with its warm interior and the thick, sweet, sticky syrup it exuded. Pinocchio ate with care, savoring and swallowing everything slowly so as to not make a mess, as well as to make it all last as long as possible. Jiminy took share in the snacks, and even Terence eventually consented to at least one stick of candy.

The lights in the pavilion were soon dimmed, save for one single spotlight, while the circus band, from a special platform, proceeded to play out a lively overture.

Then Master Fabrizio himself revealed his presence to the public. The man was dressed splendidly for the occasion: he wore a fine, sleek black tailcoat, cream-colored breeches, white silk gloves, and gleaming black boots that extended to his knees, all topped off with a jaunty, broad-brimmed black top hat. In his right hand, he carried a long, single horsewhip. Everyone cheered as he strode out into the center of the ring, and in exchange he swept off his hat and bowed deeply before them all. As they were right next to the ring, Terence and Pinocchio and Jiminy could clearly make out the man's face, which appeared even paler and gaunter in the light, if such a thing were even possible. It was almost like seeing a living corpse, dressed in excellent clothes.

And even though Fabrizio smiled broadly at the crowd, Jiminy could sense the smile wasn't entirely sincere—even bordering on menacing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Fabrizio announced dramatically, when the applause and the symphony had died down, and silence filled the pavilion, "it is with the deepest of pleasure and the greatest of pride that I welcome you all here tonight. The show which you are about to see this evening will feature some of the finest artists, as well as some of the most spectacular acts, that you shall not find anywhere else in the world. Here, at the Fabrizio Expo, our one and only desire is to provide you with nothing less of the very best quality of entertainment we can possibly provide. Let the show begin!" Another round of cheers and applause followed this, and even Terence clapped quietly a few times.

As another musical sequence sounded from the band, Master Fabrizio unraveled his whip and cracked smartly at the air, and a small group of pure white Arabian horses appeared in the arena.

There were about five horses in total, and they all charged through a sheet of brightly colored paper headfirst, one after the other, and galloped into the ring in a single-file line. Each beast had a pair of either red or white camellias fixed to its ears, and together their manes and tails were plaited with blue and white ribbons, while their fine milk-white coats were as smooth and glossy as the purest silk. Fabrizio cracked his whip smartly a second time and barked out an order to the horses, and they proceeded to move around the ring in a perfect circle. They first moved slowly, then, as Fabrizio lashed his whip and shouted, they quickened their pace to a trot, then a canter; soon, they were racing about the arena at a splendid gallop.

Somewhere off the set, where hardly anyone could see, a gun went off—and Pinocchio wasn't the only one who screamed and jumped at the unexpected _bang_ and sent half his peanuts flying.

The horses, pretending to have just been shot, simultaneously reared and shrieked, and they dropped their whole lengths onto the sawdust-sprinkled ground, as though they were dying. At first Pinocchio was horrified, but when he realized it was all part of the act, and when the horses jumped to their feet a minute later and pranced away, he took part in the cheering.

After the horses, a pair of clowns rode in on a unicycle, one on top of the other's shoulders.

Both clowns were decked out in outrageously polka-dotted waistcoats, brazenly striped trousers, big pointed hats (one hat, however, was topped with a giant bell, while the other had a puffy red pompom instead), enormous ruffs around their necks, and shoes that looked to be a good ten sizes too large. Their faces were painted solid white, with designs of various shapes and colors. For a good half-hour or so, the two clowns enthralled and delighted their viewers with wildly absurd antics, which ranged from magic tricks (such as making items materialize out of seemingly thin air, or extracting extensive bands of multicolored cloth), to tripping each other up, to juggling eggs and colored balls and other assorted objects, to standing on one another's heads. Once, when one clown squirted his partner in the face with a little flower on his lapel that contained water, his partner paid him back by whipping out an entire bottle of seltzer—where the bottle came from, or how the clown even produced the thing, nobody had the slightest idea—and spraying it all in _his_ face.

Overall, the twosome engaged in such ludicrous foolery, and carried out their routine with such reckless abandon, that everyone positively cracked up, including Terence and Pinocchio. Even Jiminy found it impossible to keep a straight face. At first Pinocchio felt guilty about laughing like this, wondering whether it was all right for him to do so when his heart was still so heavy with sorrow, and especially considering what happened before. Yet the jesting and the slapstick of the clowns was such that the lad just could not help himself.

Later, a beautiful young woman, with flaxen hair twisted into an elegant knot at the base of her neck, and dressed in a white tulle dress with matching white tights, and holding a white lace parasol—Master Fabrizio introduced her as Lady Arietta—made a stunning performance on the tightrope. The spectators from below watched in wide-eyed wonder and admiration as Lady Arietta moved with breathtaking grace and poise across the thin rope, many feet above the ground, and held herself in a number of different poses, with titles such as "Bird of Paradise", and "Half Moon", and "The Eagle Takes Flight". Pinocchio had absolutely no idea how in the world she did it, how she made it all look so easy.

After this, a man known as Fergal, the Great Fire Wielder, a mighty hulk of a man with jet-black skin, bulging muscles, and a shaven head, and garbed in the hide of a tiger, wowed them all with an imposing and daring fire dance—a dance that consisted mainly of twirling and propelling two long batons that burned at both ends.

Pinocchio was somewhat terrified of this act, and shrank back against Terence whenever Fergal got a little too close to them with those flaming sticks, for his liking.

"And now," said Fabrizio, after they witnessed the mesmerizing feats of Gahiji, the Snake Charmer, "for our next exploit, we request the participation of a small boy from the audience."

Needless to say, the hands of just about every young boy present shot straight up, and the air rang with a raucous chorus of: "_Me! Me! Me! Pick me! Pick me!_"

Pinocchio was the only one of the bunch who did not volunteer. Rather, Pinocchio merely burrowed deeper into Terence's arms, and remained silent.

Regardless of the excited squeals and pleas of the other children, Fabrizio had his eye solely upon Pinocchio the whole time.

Acting as if he had spotted the puppet only just now, he pointed to the spot where Terence and Pinocchio were seated, and said, "Ah, how about you there?"

"M-me?" Pinocchio stammered, his eyes widening with shock.

"Yes, you," Fabrizio verified. "Come on over here!"

"_Awwww!_" all of the other boys pouted.

"Come, now," said Fabrizio enticingly, when Pinocchio would not move, "no need to be shy."

"Go on, Pinocchio," Terence urged the puppet, gently shoving him off his lap.

"But—I—I don't want—" Pinocchio sputtered.

"Go on," the young man insisted again. "You'll be fine. Just go on over there, and do whatever they tell you to do. It will all be over before you know it. And don't worry, I will be right here."

At that time, two escorts had arrived at their box, and as they guided Pinocchio out into the arena, Terence called to his little friend, "Good luck!"

Though the middle of the circus ring was the very last place Pinocchio wanted to be, he had neither the heart nor the will to struggle against his ushers, and any words the boy had in his throat remained dead on his lips. When he stood at Fabrizio's side in the limelight, Fabrizio bent to his level and asked him, "What is your name, little boy? Do be so kind enough to tell us!"

At first Pinocchio could only stand in the blinding light, paralyzed before the public, but he managed to stammer, "Pinocchio. M-my name is Pinocchio."

"Pinocchio!" Fabrizio declared, as if this name were phenomenal. "Well, my dear Pinocchio, let me be the first to say it is delightful to have you here with us tonight, simply _delightful!_"

Jiminy narrowed his eyes slightly at Fabrizio while the man went into excessive raptures over his friend. Terence, himself, realized perhaps Fabrizio was laying this on a bit thick.

"Have you ever been to a circus before, Pinocchio?" Fabrizio asked conversationally.

"Well, I…" Pinocchio began, but Fabrizio cut him off.

"Have you ever acted in front of a live audience before?"

Pinocchio was reminded painfully of his time at the theater, when he was forced to work for Stromboli, the cruel, abusive gypsy who ran a marionette troupe, and earned himself a handsome deal of money by showing Pinocchio off on stage. Pinocchio recalled, in luridly sharp detail, how Stromboli had taken all of the money the puppet had rightfully earned for himself, and then locked the wooden lad in a cage, swearing to chop him into firewood as soon as he was too old and too familiar to be in show business any longer. Pinocchio's heart gave a sickening lurch as he saw in his mind's eye how Stromboli, as emphasis to his death threat, had buried a small yet unfriendly hatchet in an old, lifeless wooden marionette reduced to a mere pile of splinters.

And the memory of Stromboli brought on an even darker, even more heartbreaking memory…

Exerting his utmost effort to not focus on these horrible things, Pinocchio opened his mouth to respond to Fabrizio's question, but Fabrizio cut the child short yet again, before so much as one word could escape his tongue. "Splendid, splendid!" the man enthused. With one hand, he slapped Pinocchio good-naturedly upon the back, very nearly knocking Pinocchio flat on his face. "Like they say, my dear boy, there is no business in the world like show business!"

Pinocchio just stood there on the spot, looking and feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Jiminy scowled at Fabrizio. _That windbag!_ the cricket thought indignantly, without opening his mouth.

At the same time, Terence wondered, _Why doesn't he give Pinocchio a chance to answer? _

Paying no mind to Pinocchio's troubled expression, Fabrizio asked the lad, "Tell me, Pinocchio, do you know how to do aerobics, and calisthenics?"

Pinocchio wasn't sure what he meant by that, so he said tentatively, "I…I think so…maybe a little bit…"

"Then this shall be the ideal act for you!" Fabrizio therefore clapped his hands several times, and four men in tights—including the two men in black Pinocchio spotted earlier, before the show—appeared. Together the four men cartwheeled, back-flipped, and handsprang their whole way to Pinocchio and Fabrizio, landing squarely on their feet when they reached them. Fabrizio introduced the men to Pinocchio, as well as the audience, as Dino, Gianni, Paolo, and Vitale. "They are my trapeze artists," the chairperson explained, "as well as my acrobats. They do just about everything—from rhythmic gymnastics, to trampoline and tumbling, to acrobatic exercises. Your job, Pinocchio, is to be their assistant this evening, to help them with their special tricks."

"W-what?" Pinocchio nearly gulped.

"_What?_" said Jiminy out loud at the same time, though no one aside from Terence heard him; even Terence was taken aback.

Pinocchio's stomach gave quite an unpleasant lurch, and his legs felt suddenly very weak, like limp, sodden noodles.

"Now, now," Fabrizio consoled, "I assure you, there's nothing to be afraid of. These men are trained professionals; they are expert in what they do. Trust me, you're in good hands, my boy."

Pinocchio looked helplessly at Terence, who smiled gently at him, and offered a nod of encouragement. Pinocchio wanted nothing more at that time than to rush back to his box and hide in Terence's arms. But Gianni and Dino (the men in black) were already leading him away, before he could make any move whatsoever. Accompanied by a stirring oeuvre from the band, the four artists and acrobats proceeded to carry out their act, with Pinocchio unwillingly taking part in the routine. At first the men started out small and simple, such as performing handstands, or moving around on their hands, with Pinocchio perched on their feet; or building a human pyramid, with Pinocchio stationed at the very top. Once, Vitale, while performing on a set of rings, lifted Pinocchio up into the air with him—using only his ankles—and he very slowly elevated and elongated them both into an impressive inverted cross.

Pinocchio did reasonably all right with all these tricks, and everyone cheered for him, especially Terence, who applauded the puppet with more enthusiasm and gusto than he had done for any of the previous performers.

Then the tricks started getting more complicated. Pinocchio began finding himself the victim of increasingly daring throws and pitches and catches.

While he was never hurt, for his collaborators never failed to catch him, even if only at the last second, it was still a scary experience for him.

But the audience loved him, while Terence beamed at him, and Fabrizio looked on the whole time with a smile of triumphant satisfaction on his white, emaciated face.

Then Gianni and Dino, after executing yet another incredible feat with Pinocchio, looked directly at one another for just a moment, an unspoken conversation in their eyes.

Both men nodded their heads simultaneously, each knowing precisely what the other was thinking.

It was now time to see what this little wooden scrap was _really_ made of.

No one knew what these men were up to, least of all Pinocchio. But during a further elaborate exercise with Pinocchio, Dino, when he felt the time was exactly right, catapulted the unsuspecting puppet onto a massive trampoline, in a way that sent Pinocchio bouncing exceptionally high into the air.

And then Vitale swooped down on a steel bar suspended from the ceiling, and neatly caught hold of Pinocchio with his feet as the boy flew up to him.

By the time Pinocchio fully realized what was happening, he was high above the ground, with nothing but Vitale's sheer grip on him to prevent him from falling. Unfortunately for poor Pinocchio, he harbored a terrible fear of heights, and when he saw just how high up he was, his whole face went stark-white and he gave out a strangled wail of alarm.

That was the moment Terence realized this was a mistake.

"Wait a minute," the young man said, rising up taller in his chair, his smile vanishing from his face instantly. "Something's not right here!"

Jiminy's eyes widened to no less than three times their size at the sight of Pinocchio, and his jaw dropped. Fabrizio surveyed the scene intently from where he stood, but said nothing, nor even attempted to try to stop it. Everyone else watched in not-so-silent awe as the little puppet and the circus acrobat swayed to and fro together, gaining speed and momentum with every swing.

As Vitale moved forward again, with Pinocchio still wedged firmly between his ankles, Paolo from the opposite end also took a forward dive on a steel bar of his very own. Only unlike his partner, Paolo hung on solely by his legs. As the two men drew near one another, Terence, knowing their intention, cried out desperately from below, "Wait—_stop!_"

But Vitale had already flung Pinocchio away from him.

Pinocchio screamed as he went flying freely and helplessly through the air.

A chorus of gasps arose from the crowd, and Terence covered his face with his hands, unable to bear to watch.

But then Paolo caught Pinocchio skillfully by his ankles; the next thing Pinocchio knew, he now viewed the world from upside-down, swinging along at a terrifying, dizzying speed.

Terence dared to peek through his fingers, and Jiminy, who had also covered his eyes, mustered the nerve to look up again.

"Oh, no!" Terence cried, upon seeing Pinocchio in this new precarious position.

"_Pinocchio!_" Jiminy yelled fervently, but there was far too much noise raging around them, and the boy was far too high up to hear anyway.

Paolo took Pinocchio back with him, and all Pinocchio could do was clutch onto his feathered hat to prevent it from falling completely off his head.

The puppet had never been so frightened in all his life. He felt as though his insides were falling out; he could scarcely breathe, and he felt an overwhelming urge to throw up. Oblivious to the child's fright, Paolo tossed him as they changed course and sailed back the opposite direction, in a way that made Pinocchio literally somersault through the air.

Unluckily enough for the boy, Vitale failed to catch him this time—they missed each other by less than a mere inch—and therefore Pinocchio ended up taking a dreadful fall to the earth.

"PINOCCHIO!" Terence and Jiminy exclaimed together, with all their hearts.

All Pinocchio could do was scream at the top of his lungs, in pure, primal terror, as he dropped like a brick. He plummeted what must have been a good fifty feet or so—and, oh, who knows what would have happened, had there not been an enormous vat of pie filling below to catch him? He landed in the barrel with a gigantic _splat_, and a huge amount of pie filling went spewing in every direction. Fabrizio promptly shielded himself with his top hat, though he still got his fine suit considerably spattered; and many of the spectators up front got quite a faceful of the slimy white paste. Terence and Jiminy were just barely out of range, but they both shut their eyes tightly and shrank back, hiding their faces once more.

After a long moment of dead silence, a sticky white glove slowly reached up and grasped hold of the edge of the barrel.

Then, little by little, a completely covered Pinocchio hauled himself up out of the glop. He was alive and unharmed, thankfully—but he was a complete and utter mess.

To make matters worse, the audience, once they'd gotten over the initial shock, broke into gales of hysterical laughter.

Just about everyone in the pavilion, both children and adults, positively roared, as if this were the most hilarious thing they ever saw in their lives.

Terence, Jiminy, and Fabrizio were the only ones of the whole lot who didn't laugh, or even crack so much as half a smile.

In Terence's eyes, he had never beheld a sight that was any less funny.

For a time, all Pinocchio could do was remain where he was, after he climbed out of the vat and stood on his own two feet. The boy was frozen from head to foot, like a block of ice. The laughter of the people surrounded him on every side, loud and wild, almost ominous. In the dim light, their shadowy faces suddenly appeared eerie and menacing.

Pinocchio felt as if the walls of the pavilion were closing in on him…as if the whole world itself were closing in on him, ready to trap him, to crush him.

Finally, something inside the child snapped altogether.

Half-blinded by tears, caught fast by the sheer, stark emotion that threatened to choke him, Pinocchio whirled around and took off running, just as fast as his scrawny legs could move him.

"Pinocchio!" Terence hollered out to him.

"Pinocchio!" Jiminy hollered at the same time.

But their voices were hardly audible over the hilarity of the audience. And Pinocchio simply kept going, wanting—and needing—to get away from it all, to escape everyone and everything.

Without once glancing back, the agonized child made a beeline for the nearest exit.

"Pinocchio, come back!" Terence called frantically, but Pinocchio made no sign of having heard him.

"Stop that boy!" Fabrizio commanded sharply, pointing a finger after the runaway puppet.

The pavilion was in an uproar. Several guards in red and black uniform made a lunge for Pinocchio, but he was too quick for them.

In no time, the boy had gone out the flap leading outside the big top, and out of sight.

Without another second's hesitation, Terence sprang to his feet and launched himself straight over the edge of his box, and he sprinted after Pinocchio, nearly knocking the guards over in his haste as he hurtled past them. Jiminy, being a cricket, slipped by the guards without being noticed at all. Ignoring the men's startled cries, protests, and curses, Terence rushed out of the pavilion, away from the pandemonium and the grandeur of the circus, into the cool, still silence of the night. The night was dark, the moon overhead was full, and there was a distinct chill in the air. After the warmth of the pavilion, the coldness stung Terence like an unfriendly slap in the face. But he hardly noticed.

Up ahead, the young man could just barely make out Pinocchio's solitary form. Rather than stop or slow down, Pinocchio only ran faster, like he was being pursued by a ghost.

"Pinocchio!" Terence shouted after the puppet. "Pinocchio, wait!"

Whether he heard or not, Pinocchio only continued to flee.

From behind, Jiminy was having a difficult time keeping up with Terence. "Hey!" the cricket gasped. "Hey, Terence, Pinoke—wait up!"

"Pinocchio!" Terence called again. "Stop! _Pinocchio!_"

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	9. Chapter 9: Drowning

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_____This chapter's shorter than the last one, but no less intense, and quite heart-rending. _

_____For those of you who are a little upset with Terence after the previous chapter (I was surprised at some of the negativity geared towards him), this ought to change your mind about him. _

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved.**_

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**Chapter 9: Drowning**

Heart heaving, lungs on fire, blinded by tears, fear, grief, and humiliation, Pinocchio pelted down the abandoned street as hard as he could go, heedless of where he was going and not caring. All he wanted was to just get _away_.

Behind him, he could scarcely hear Terence's voice crying, "Pinocchio! Pinocchio, wait! Please, wait!"

But Pinocchio kept going, as if his legs had taken on a mind of their own. Though Terence was a fast runner, Pinocchio was even faster.

"Pinocchio!" Terence kept shouting, while in his heart he agonized, _Oh, what have I done? What have I done? None of this would have happened if I hadn't insisted he go out there—_

Had Terence known what would have come about, what those men at the circus meant to do with Pinocchio, he would never have sent the puppet out into the arena in the first place. For that matter, he would never have agreed to attend the show at all. He would never have willingly let such a terrible thing befall the poor boy. All he had wanted was to lift Pinocchio's spirits, to have the child take part in the fun. Now, too late, he realized how grievous a mistake that had been. What must Pinocchio think of him? Terence could only hope and pray that the boy, when they caught up with each other, could forgive him for the harm he put him through—however unintentionally.

They soon reached the docks that skirted the village, where the sea spread out as far as the eye could see. Several big ships rested at port, and the moon cast a soft, otherworldly pearl glow upon the dark water.

There was not another living soul to be found anywhere in the harbor.

Quite suddenly, Pinocchio slipped on the slick sheet of slime that coated the wooden deck. As a result, he took a bad tumble into the sea itself. He barely had time to cry out before he hit the water. When he struggled to the surface a moment later, the remains of the pie filling were completely washed away. Unfortunately, the puppet couldn't swim well. It didn't help that the sea was not at its smoothest level, and the water, along with the night itself, was bitterly cold. At once Pinocchio began to thrash wildly about, splashing water in every direction, fighting vainly against the powerful tide that was rapidly sweeping him away.

"Help!" the child wailed to high heaven. "Help—" The current sucked him completely under, drowning out his call. A good number of bubbles followed his submersion.

By that time, Terence had reached the docks himself, and he arrived just at the moment Pinocchio disappeared below the churning, foamy surface.

"_Pinocchio!_" Terence exclaimed, horrorstruck.

Knowing there was not a second to lose, the young man whipped off his cloak as he raced to the edge of the platform. With his boots still on his feet, he made a spectacular leap into the air and dove headfirst into the water.

The frigid water hit him like a wall of solid brick; it nearly jarred his breath right out of him. Although he was a superb swimmer, he was hardly a match for the unruly current.

On the deck, Jiminy was skidding to a halt, and the cricket only just managed to avoid going over the edge himself.

From where he stood, he peered anxiously into the water, but saw no sign of Terence, save for enormous rings of ripples and a substantial swell of bubbles.

After a long, heart-pounding moment, Terence finally surfaced, drenched to the skin and gasping for air, his silvery locks plastered against his sopping face. The water was so incredibly cold—it was like swimming in a sea of ice. The surge of wind that greeted Terence as he emerged only made the cold worse. Paying no heed to the cold, Terence summoned every ounce of his strength and began to swim in Pinocchio's direction, using a lively crawl stroke to propel himself along. The waves rolled over him continually as he swam, covering him completely more than once, flooding his mouth and nostrils with sour-tasting brine.

Jiminy stood by, watching fearfully, every fiber of him hoping and praying that both Terence and Pinocchio would make it.

Meanwhile, Pinocchio's strength was quickly failing him, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for the poor child to keep his head on top of the water.

He continued to go down, over and over—until he went down for the last time.

But just as he was doing so, Terence had at long last caught up with him. Without a pause, Terence inhaled the longest, deepest breath he could manage and plunged swiftly under.

As Pinocchio sank into the cold, shadowy depths of the sea, Terence angled into a smooth dive after the drowning puppet. He pulled himself deeper with vigorous kicks and strokes, his clothes billowing, his hair streaming behind him like weeds. No sooner had he reached Pinocchio than he seized a firm hold of him; with one arm clasping the boy's middle, he used his free arm and both legs to direct both of them back to the surface.

Just when Terence couldn't hold his breath any longer, he exploded out of the water, back into the clear, life-giving air.

He emerged with a noisy exhalation, and he took the new air in great rapacious gulps, feeling he would never breathe properly again.

Exhausted and freezing as he was, the youth centered all his thoughts, all his remaining energy on getting Pinocchio safely to shore. It was no easy task, due to his failing strength combined with the tide that kept pushing them back.

But in the end, he succeeded, and he heaved himself onto the pier, bringing Pinocchio up with him.

He expected the poor boy to be lifeless as he laid him down, but to his blessed relief, Pinocchio almost immediately drew in a gasping breath and launched into a fit of coughing and retching. A considerable amount of seawater spurted from his mouth. He cowered on his hands and knees, his whole body jerking with the violent spasms, while Terence knelt beside him and patted him on the back. It took a long time for all of the water to drain from Pinocchio's lungs, and no sooner could he breathe regularly again than he began to cry. Hot tears spilled from his eyes in unrestrained gushes, running down to mix with the water already trailing profusely down his face.

Wearily, Terence dragged the boy onto his lap and clasped him against his heart, holding onto him as if for dear life. Pinocchio made no resistance to this. He even hugged Terence back, squeezing the man so tightly it was a miracle he didn't crack Terence's ribs. All the puppet could do was sob and gag, and Terence could feel the warmth of his own tears on his own wet cheeks as they embraced.

"Oh, Pinocchio," was all he could say, his voice husky with emotion and fatigue. With a sob in his throat, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the top of Pinocchio's head.

In less than two seconds, Jiminy appeared at their side. "Pinocchio!" gasped the cricket, nearly beside himself. "Pinocchio, are you all right?"

But Pinocchio, who was quite overcome, was unable to answer. He just buried his face in Terence's soaked habit, bawling like a baby.

Terence remained on his knees and let Pinocchio sob his heart and soul out for a time, and when the puppet let loose with a sneeze, Terence knew he had to get him warmed up right away.

So he plucked up his cloak, which was considerably drier than the rest of him, and wrapped Pinocchio up well in it.

Then he scooped up the whole bundle and stood, saying softly, "Come on, Pinocchio. Let's get you back to the inn."


	10. Chapter 10: The Truth Comes Clear

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Sorry for keeping you waiting, readers. I'm kinda swamped with school right now, with finals coming up and everything. But I managed to find some time to write my next chapter down. I know just about all of you are dying to know what has happened to Geppetto, in addition to Pinocchio. Well, this is where we finally find out. And, you know, you might not be so eager to learn the truth after all. _

**

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Chapter 10: The Truth Comes Clear**

Back at the Red Mount Inn, Terence and Pinocchio sat close together by the glowing hearth in the dining hall. Jiminy accompanied them, of course. There was no one else around, and Terence had paid the innkeeper two pieces of silver to see to it that they were not disturbed. The innkeeper had readily agreed. In this way, Terence and Pinocchio could stay together and talk for as long as they needed to, without having to worry about unwelcome intruders. To keep Pinocchio from developing pneumonia, Terence had the boy wrapped in two thick blankets, and he made the puppet take the spot closest to the fire. He, himself, sat with a blanket of his own draped loosely over his own shoulders. His white hair and goatee, still damp from his swim in the sea, trailed down in limp, tangled strands. Pinocchio's tears had long since desisted, and the puppet now sat in stone silence, staring dimly into space. Terence poured himself some tea that the innkeeper had just brewed for them, and he offered his friend a mug of steaming milk, saying, "Here, Pinocchio, drink this. It will do you a world of good."

Pinocchio accepted the cup and managed to take a few sips, but the level didn't go down much. While the milk was sweet and creamy, it did precious little to alleviate the boy's spirits.

"I'm so sorry, Pinocchio," said Terence contritely, with a very sorrowful shake of his head. "I am so sorry for putting you through this."

He didn't have the heart to repeat the incident at the circus vocally.

There was no need, anyhow. Pinocchio and Jiminy both knew all too well what the young man was talking about.

Pinocchio said nothing, but merely looked away from Terence. He wasn't angry or resentful towards Terence in any way, but the boy wished at that time that he could just curl up into a little ball, and disappear. Jiminy didn't blame Terence for what had happened that night, either.

On the contrary, the cricket felt deep gratitude and a sense of veneration toward the young man, for willingly risking his life for Pinocchio's sake out in the ocean.

"I never meant to cause you any harm," Terence went on, knowing he had to say the words. "Really, I didn't. It's just that I couldn't bear to see you so miserable. I thought taking part in the act would help perk your spirits. I only wanted you to be happy. Now, I see that I made a terrible mistake in sending you out there. Oh, Pinocchio, please forgive me…please."

He reached for Pinocchio's hand while he made his earnest plea. When Pinocchio did not pull away, Terence decided to take that as somewhat of a good sign.

The young man then shifted his repentant gaze to Jiminy.

"You were right about Fabrizio from the very start, Jiminy. You did well to suspect him, and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you as well as I ought to have done."

"That's all right, Terence," Jiminy gently reassured him. "You had no way of knowing what those men were up to. I know you would never have deliberately put Pinoke in such danger."

The cricket smiled. "And, you did save his life, putting your own life at stake in the process. That was very noble of you."

"What else could I have done?" said Terence solemnly. "I couldn't leave him out there to drown. I just couldn't."

To Pinocchio, he went on, "If anything happened to you, Pinocchio, I don't know what I'd do." With his free hand, he smoothed Pinocchio's tangled, dark hair. "I know we've known each other for only one day…but in the course of that one day, I have grown to love you, to care for you dearly." He paused a second before adding softly, "Almost like I was your own father."

At the mention of the word "father", Pinocchio's face contorted, in a way that Terence had never seen before.

Just when Pinocchio had thought he couldn't cry anymore, tears were once more pouring down his cheeks afresh, dripping consistently off the end of his long wooden nose.

He tried to gulp back the sobs that threatened to burst free from his throat, but he wasn't very successful.

"Awww," Terence sympathized, opening his arms to him one more time. "Come here."

Pinocchio wordlessly accepted the invitation, and allowed himself to sink freely into the man's warm, gentle embrace. Terence held Pinocchio close for a good few minutes, stroking and caressing him the whole time, crooning soft words intermittently into his ear. He did not ask Pinocchio to cease with his weeping, but rather encouraged him to let it all out, while all the while reassuring the child of his presence. "I'm here for you, Pinocchio," he soothed, running one hand over Pinocchio's back in light circles, and kissing his temple briefly. "I'm here. Right here."

At some point, Pinocchio managed to choke out something. Due to his face being buried in Terence's chest, however, and due to his heaving, ragged sobs, the words were hardly distinguishable. Hearing this, Terence eased his hold on him a little and peered down at him. "What was that?"

Pinocchio sniffed and gulped, trying vainly to brush his tears away.

"I-I wish…I wish…" He faltered.

"You wish, what?" Terence queried.

Pinocchio hesitated, drawing in a long, rattling breath as his tears continued to flow relentlessly.

"Yes?" Terence nodded mildly, urging him to go on. "I am listening."

"I wish my father was here, Mr. Terence." The words were out of Pinocchio's mouth before he realized it.

"Your father?" Terence echoed incredulously. "You never once said a word about your father."

Knowing he'd just let slip his darkest, most intimate secret, Pinocchio promptly turned away from Terence.

At length, he felt Terence's hand gently force him to move his head the other direction. When he mustered the nerve to look properly into the young man's face, illuminated by the vivid red-orange glow from the fire, Terence told him in a hushed voice, "I think it's time you told me what happened, Pinocchio."

Pinocchio was afraid Terence would say that, and it was as though a cold, iron hand had reached into the boy's chest and seized hold of his heart.

"My dear, sweet friend," said Terence earnestly, his expression a combination of tenderness and sadness, "if there is anything you need to tell me, anything you need to get off your chest, now is as good a time as any to do it. Please do not withhold the truth from me any longer. Tell me everything. I beg of you, Pinocchio, please tell me."

"Terence—" Jiminy began to object.

"Jiminy, look at him," Terence said solicitously. "He's a complete wreck. Don't you think he has had enough?"

Jiminy looked at Terence, then at Pinocchio, who was indeed a sight—quite disfigured, really, with his face striped and stained with tears, his eyes so red and swollen from so much crying. The sight made Jiminy's heart twist. The cricket heaved out a deep, sorrowful sigh, and bowed his head to his chest. But when he spoke again, all he said was, "I suppose you're right."

Terence returned his attention to Pinocchio once more.

"You can trust me, Pinocchio," he assured the little lad. "I can keep my mouth shut. I won't go spreading it around. I only wish to know for myself what it is that's come about you."

"I can't say it," Pinocchio moaned, bending forward and covering his head with his gloved hands. "Please don't make me say it, Mr. Terence."

Terence eased himself to the floor and knelt at Pinocchio's feet.

He reached out and lightly tugged Pinocchio's hands away from his face, then he cupped the child's chin in his own hands, and surveyed him intently.

"Pinocchio, listen to me," the man said, speaking very seriously. "The longer you hold this inside, the more it's going to torment you. You'll fall utterly to bits if you keep this up."

A single tear silently leaked down Pinocchio's cheek, glittering like a diamond in the firelight. Terence wiped it away with his thumb. "You can't go on like this," the white-haired youth continued. "I can see that it's destroying you, whatever it is you're hiding. Unless you do something about it, it will only get worse and worse. Believe me, Pinocchio, I know. I have been there, and done that myself. Secrets are never an easy burden to carry. While some secrets are terrible to reveal, they are far more terrible to be kept locked up inside."

In his heart, Pinocchio knew Terence was right. But how could he bear to tell him the agonizing truth?

How could he tell Terence just what it was that truly upset him, more than anything else that had occurred that night; the one thing that made the boy's heart as sick as it was?

"Forgive me, Pinocchio," Terence implored, his hands still embracing Pinocchio's face, "but I can't stand to see you suffer like this. Don't put yourself through any more torture than you have been through already. I want to help you, but I can't unless you tell me what it is that troubles you. Open your heart. Give release to the poison. It's the only way to truly overcome this, the only way for you to find peace and healing. Tell me, Pinocchio. Tell me everything."

"You won't hate me, Mr. Terence?" Pinocchio asked haltingly. "You won't hate me for what I tell you?"

Terence looked like he had just been slapped across the face. "My dearest Pinocchio, how in the world can you say such a thing? How can you even think it? I could _never _hate you. Surely a small, innocent, precious child like you couldn't have done anything so horrible."

Pinocchio lowered his eyes forlornly toward the ground.

"But I have," he mumbled, the words emerging so softly that Terence almost didn't hear him.

"Oh, Pinocchio, that's absurd," said Terence, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't believe it. I am more than sure that you are nothing of the sort. But," he added with a sigh, "if it will make this any easier for you, I will stay with you, and listen to your every word. And nothing you have to say, or can say, will change the way I feel about you. Nothing."

"You mean it, Mr. Terence?" Pinocchio asked timidly, feeling the faintest spark of hope flicker within him as their gazes entangled. "Really and truly mean it?"

"May I be struck dead on the spot if I don't. Now, enough time has been wasted, as it is. Tell me, Pinocchio, what's happened? Does this have anything to do with your father, in any way?"

Though this was costing Pinocchio every bit of courage and heart he had in him—or whatever he had left in him—he at long last gave in to Terence's supplication, and told him what he needed to tell him. "Yes, Mr. Terence, you are right. This does have to do with my father."

"Where is your father?" Terence asked, his hands easing down to rest on Pinocchio's thin shoulders.

Here, Pinocchio closed his eyes for just a moment, feeling as if a razor-sharp sword were being thrust through him. "He's gone," was all the boy could bring himself to utter.

"Gone?" Terence echoed. "What do you mean?"

"He's gone," Pinocchio repeated, as fresh tears began to flow forth. "And it's all my fault."

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	11. Chapter 11: Pinocchio's Tragic Tale

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Well, here it is. This is where the whole story of what came about Geppetto is brought to light. And yes, he is gone—and by that, I mean _gone._ I'm really sorry, everyone. I hope that you won't hate me for writing this sort of thing. I debated with myself about this for the longest time, and ultimately decided it would make my story more meaningful, more gripping, if Geppetto was no longer around. (I promise, though, my story does have a happy ending. Hopefully that helps you feel a little better.) Make sure you supply yourselves with extra tissues before you proceed any further. _

**

* * *

**

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**_All rights reserved._  
**

**

* * *

Chapter 11: Pinocchio's Tragic Tale**

"What are you talking about, Pinocchio?" Terence wasn't sure he heard the boy quite correctly.

"My father…" Pinocchio's voice wavered and faltered. "My father…he…h-he's…" He could not bring himself to utter the dreadful word out loud, but Terence could tell from the tears that rained down the boy's cheeks and the look of sheer anguish that contorted his small face that, whatever happened to his father, it must have been something extremely awful.

"There, now, take it easy," Terence said softly. "Start from the beginning. Tell me what happened, in the order that it happened."

"I can't," was all Pinocchio could say, the words nearly drowned out by a sob.

"You must," Terence insisted. "Please, you must—for your sake, if not for mine."

Pinocchio just shut his eyes tightly again, his expression equal to that of one being forced through severe physical agony, and bowed his head abjectly.

Keeping one hand against Pinocchio's shoulder, Terence slipped his fingers on his free hand under the child's chin and carefully lifted his face to his own.

"Pinocchio," he said, finally getting the boy to look at him again. "Please." His voice was scarcely a whisper, but it held every bit of his heart in it. The youth's bright sapphire eyes were sad and beseeching, and emanated an overwhelming love and pity that pierced Pinocchio to the core. Pinocchio drew in several long, shaky breaths, fighting to pull himself together.

Terence did not rush him, and did nothing except kneel before him and wait for him.

Jiminy just stayed where he was the whole time, and never said a word.

After a while, Pinocchio somehow found his tongue, and summoned enough courage to speak once more. "Well, it all started on my first day of school—"_  
_

_

* * *

_

_It was a bright, beautiful morning. The sun shone radiantly in the sky, which was a clear, cloudless blue. _

_As the bell in the town square began to chime, the doors to the many houses and cottages opened, and children started pouring steadily into the street—boys and girls alike, all dressed in their very best—to go to school. Everyone was talking and laughing at the same time, and they all appeared to be in good spirits. The smaller and younger of the children kept receiving endless hugs and kisses and last-minute reminders from their parents, while those who were taller and older hastened to catch up with friends. Some children walked alone, others traveled in groups that varied in size. _

_In the midst of all this hullabaloo, Pinocchio emerged from his own house, with his old father Geppetto right behind him. Pinocchio could hardly contain his excitement. _

_"Oh, look, Father!" he exclaimed. "Look!" _

"_Now, now, stand still, Pinocchio!" said Geppetto as he struggled to put Pinocchio's jacket on him, which was a near to impossible task, as the puppet wouldn't stop hopping about. _

"_What are those?" Pinocchio asked eagerly, pointing to the rest of the children. _

"_Huh?" Geppetto glanced up briefly. "Oh, those! They are your schoolmates, son—girls, and boys." _

"_Real boys?" said Pinocchio hopefully, as Geppetto managed to successfully slip the jacket over his shoulders. _

"_Yes, yes, my son. But hurry now, or you will be late." _

_But just as Pinocchio was making his way down the front steps to catch up with the other children, Geppetto suddenly called for him to stop and wait a moment. When Pinocchio turned back, Geppetto extracted a shiny red apple from his pocket, polished it quickly on his shirtsleeve, and placed it neatly into his boy's hand, saying, "Here's an apple for your teacher. Now, turn around, son, and let me look you over." Pinocchio proudly did so, keeping his head stationary while turning the rest of his body about in a full circle (being a puppet, he was able to do that with no effort whatsoever), and Geppetto laughed heartily. Then Figaro, the little black cat that was their pet, appeared at their feet with a small satchel that contained Pinocchio's schoolbooks._ "_Oh, yes!" said Geppetto, stooping down when he saw this. "Almost forgot." He placed the satchel into Pinocchio's other hand, then he patted his boy affectionately upon the head and encouraged him, "Run along, now." _

_And so Pinocchio pranced down the steps again, and was soon skipping merrily down the cobblestone street. _

_Figaro started to follow, until Geppetto caught the little imp by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up into the air, saying, "Wait, wait—come back here, Figaro! School is not for you." _

_Just before Pinocchio disappeared around the corner, he glanced over his shoulder at his father, one last time, and called, "Goodbye, Father!" _

"_Goodbye, son," Geppetto cheerily called back to him. "Hurry back!" _

* * *

"That was the last time I ever saw my father, Mr. Terence," said Pinocchio desolately. "_Ever._"

"What happened then, Pinocchio?" Terence's heart began to beat considerably faster, because he sensed where this story was going, and it was making him feel slightly ill.

It taxed Pinocchio's heart and soul nearly to the limit just to keep talking.

Yet once the boy had started, he couldn't very well stop, either.

For the next half-hour or so, in broken, woeful words, the puppet explained to the white-haired youth how he stumbled across two unsavory characters on his way to school—a sly, dissolute fox, John Worthington Foulfellow, ironically nicknamed "Honest John"; and his companion, a taciturn cat named Gideon—and how they persuaded him to take the "easy road to success" and pursue a career as an actor, thereby disregarding school as well as home altogether. Pinocchio spoke of how he became a sensation in the marionette theater of Stromboli and raked in a handsome fortune, and how Stromboli refused to allow him to return to Geppetto, shutting the little puppet up in a bird cage to prevent him from escaping.

Stromboli took Pinocchio away with him and the rest of his caravan that very night, to travel to other towns and countries, where Pinocchio would be forced to put on more performances, and earn more money. Pinocchio, naturally, had not known it at that time; but Geppetto, when his son never came home, set out alone in the dead of night to look for him.

It had been a wild and stormy night, very much like the one in which Terence first discovered Pinocchio.

And Geppetto, who was getting on in years, and had never been in the most ideal health, ultimately became deathly ill, due to prolonged exposure to the wet and the bitter cold.

To make a long story short, Pinocchio ended up escaping successfully from Stromboli.

Together, he and Jiminy slipped away swiftly and silently into the night, to return home, unaware that Geppetto would never be there to receive them when they got there…

_

* * *

It was well past midnight by the time Pinocchio arrived at his house, at long last. The entire street was deserted, with not even so much as a dog in sight. Most of the houses lay dark and dormant. Despite the lateness of the hour, Pinocchio bolted into a full run the second home was in view, shouting excitedly at the top of his voice, "Father! Father, I'm home!" _

"_We're home, Mr. Geppetto!" Jiminy hollered, as he hurried along in Pinocchio's wake. _

_No sooner had they reached the front door than Pinocchio started pounding it with his fists and ringing the bell with all his might, crying, "It's me, Pinocchio! I'm home to stay!" _

_But there was no response, in spite of the obvious racket the boy was making. _

_The door remained closed, the lock remained firm and secure. _

"_Father!" Pinocchio continued to yell out, growing more anxious by the minute. "Father, it's me!" _

_Still, no one came to answer. _

_Instead, the noise summoned a short, plump old man in a nightdress and nightcap, from his own cottage across the street._

"_Oi!" the old man bellowed crossly to Pinocchio, catching both Pinocchio and Jiminy off-guard. "What in heaven's name d'you think you're doin', boy, runnin' about the streets in the middle of the night like a fly-by-night hooligan, makin' a load of infernal noise and rousin' respectable folk from their sleep? Have you no brains, boy? No sense of respect? What are you doin' here, anyhow?" _

"_I'm looking for my father, Geppetto," Pinocchio answered tentatively, shrinking back somewhat below his stern gaze. "D-do you know where he is, sir?" _

_A queer look came over the old man's face at the mention of Geppetto. _

_Far from looking angry and irritated and tired this time, he now appeared surprised, stunned and sorrowful—almost in tears, in fact. The sight twisted Pinocchio's gut into a painful, sickening knot.  
_

_"Didn't you hear?" the man asked, in an astonishingly hushed voice. "Mr. Geppetto passed away three days ago." _

"_Passed away?" The words tasted foreign upon Pinocchio's tongue. _

_The man nodded somberly. "He is dead, boy." _

"_Dead?" Pinocchio felt as though his heart had just fallen to the earth and shattered, like a piece of pottery. His father, his own sweet, gentle father, was _dead?_ It wasn't possible! _

"_Caught the pneumonia, he did, bein' out all night long one stormin' night while searchin' for his little boy, and he never did recover. His age and his grief was of no help to his condition, either." _

_Pinocchio couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. _

_No, his heart protested…no, it couldn't be! It just _couldn't_ be true! His father couldn't be dead! _

_Hurrying to the nearest window of the house and peering anxiously inside, Pinocchio saw, to his horrified eyes, that the place was completely deserted, from corner to corner. Every last bit of the furniture had been removed from the premises, including the king-sized bed that Geppetto and Pinocchio shared. All that was left was a blanket of dust, and a bunch of cobwebs. _

_In that instant, Pinocchio felt his whole world stop turning, felt all time come to a complete standstill. _

_Then pure, soul-wrenching grief surpassed his shock, and all the poor puppet could do was take off into the dark, as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him. Jiminy promptly followed, calling desperately for Pinocchio to stop. But Pinocchio only ran all the faster, as if by doing so he could somehow escape from it all, that he could outrun the horrible truth that pursued him like a ghost in his wake.  
_

* * *

For three long, agonizing days, Pinocchio wandered the streets with Jiminy, homeless, penniless, hungry, heartbroken…and deathly afraid.

No one else would help him, and the puppet didn't have the heart to ask for assistance.

Without his father, the world seemed a far more terrifying and unapproachable place. His very life hardly seemed worth the living anymore.

Then one day, driven by desperation and hunger, Pinocchio attempted to take a meager piece of fruit from a fruit merchant's stand in the market. Unfortunately, he was caught, and an angry officer in full uniform came swiftly after him and frightened the poor boy away. Somehow, Pinocchio managed to elude the officer, thereby avoiding getting himself locked up. He and Jiminy then took refuge in a dark, secluded alley as it began to rain. There they stayed, until Terence found them—and that was where Pinocchio's heartbreaking story reached its heartbreaking end.


	12. Chapter 12: An Angel In Disguise

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_And so begins the next chapter. By now, I'll bet you guys are tired of being so sad. Well, then, you'll want to read this, because although it's still considerably heart-wrenching, it has a rather surprising ending. Again, I hope you don't think too badly of me for getting rid of Geppetto like that. I'm only expressing what could have happened in the movie, if the old woodcarver was gone, and this story as a whole is, essentially, about how Pinocchio is healed, how he learns to trust and love again. I'm sorry if I spread the emotion on a bit too thick. _

_That's just my style—I like to pour my emotions into my work. I like to write stories that you can really immerse yourself in, really sink your teeth into. But, I'll try to not overdo it. _

_P.S. Just to let you know, this is NOT the end of my story. As tempting as it is to bring my story to a complete close here, I'm not going to do that. _

_Master Fabrizio still has to make a comeback, after all, so w__e got a few good chapters to go.  
_

**

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Chapter 12: An Angel In Disguise**

Dead silence filled the room after Pinocchio had finished. Terence didn't know what to say, or what to think. Pinocchio's story overwhelmed him completely, leaving him dumbstruck.

At length, the youth looked toward Jiminy and managed to ask, in a voice muted with disbelief, "Is this true?"

"Yes," said Jiminy despondently. "It is all true, Terence. Every single word of it."

And Pinocchio's nose had never once grown, the whole time he'd spoken. Not even by a centimeter.

"Then, that dream you had last night," said Terence softly to the puppet, recalling the episode from the previous evening, "the one you woke up screaming from—it was about your father, wasn't it?" Pinocchio merely nodded, and Terence felt his numb shock dissolve into pure, undiluted heartache.

"Oh, Pinocchio," he whispered tremulously, his own eyes wet and glistening. "I…I didn't know."

Of course, he didn't, Pinocchio knew. How could the young man have known?

Unable to go on anymore, unable to take this any longer, Pinocchio buried his face in his hands one more time, in a vain attempt to conceal his tears. Terence, prompt as ever, lifted himself from his knees and seated himself alongside Pinocchio on the stone ledge by the fire, pulling the heartbroken lad against his lean, strong body and enfolding him tightly in his arms. He allowed Pinocchio to weep into his chest for another half-hour or so, and he wept with him, so that their tears mingled together. He made no effort whatsoever to wipe the tears away, or to restrict the flow. While Pinocchio whimpered and wailed and mewled pitifully the whole time, Terence never made a sound at all, save for an occasional sniffle, or a faint, shuddery intake of breath. Jiminy, himself, could hold back the tears no longer, and he extracted a tiny handkerchief from his coat pocket and blew his nose with a noise much like a toy horn.

When Pinocchio managed to stop in the end, when the last tear had fallen and he couldn't choke out another sob without getting sick, Terence lightly soothed the boy's feverish brow and asked him, "Are you all right?" It was pathetically inadequate, but it was all the young man could think of to say.

"How can I ever be all right?" said Pinocchio mournfully, sounding stuffy, as though he were coming down with a nasty cold. "My father's gone, and I'll never see him again. And it's all my fault that he's no longer here. If it hadn't been for me, he never would have gotten sick and died to begin with."

Terence's heart nearly broke into pieces for the boy when he heard this. How awful for someone like his poor Pinocchio to feel that way!

Such a load was much too heavy, far too grievous, for anyone to carry—let alone a child, and a small child at that. No wonder Pinocchio had been such an emotional wreck. What he went through was enough to shatter any boy, and make even a grown man cower. How the puppet could have possibly withstood the past few days in the streets was beyond Terence.

The young man could only thank God that he'd found the boy when he did. It was as if heaven itself brought the two of them together, three counting Jiminy.

Cupping the puppet's chin in his hands yet again, Terence made Pinocchio look at him once more, eye to eye.

With gentle yet firm conviction, he said to him, "This isn't your fault, Pinocchio. Do you hear me? What happened to your father is _not _your fault."

"Yes, it is," Pinocchio miserably contradicted. "If I hadn't run away from home—if I'd only gone to school and been a good boy, like I was supposed to—"

"That's just it," Terence cut him off. "Don't you see, Pinocchio? There is no way of truly knowing what would have happened, or what could have happened. From the way I see it, your father's death appears to have been an accident. A most tragic and ill-timed accident, to be sure; but an accident nevertheless."

"But I…" Pinocchio began, but Terence placed a finger over his lips to shush him.

"You must not blame yourself for this, Pinocchio. Get that horrible notion out of your head. Don't you believe it, for one minute. You loved your father, and he loved you, and you know it. Torturing yourself over his death won't change a thing. It won't bring him back, and it will never do _you_ any good. I may not know a lot of things, but I do know this—sometimes terrible things just happen, and there is no explanation for why it happened, and no one to blame. It's simply the cycle of life, in motion."

"He's never coming back," said Pinocchio in a hoarse voice, "is he, Mr. Terence?" It was more of a statement than a downright question.

"No," said Terence, shaking his head slowly and very sorrowfully. "No, I'm afraid he never will. But imagine if he _were _still living, this very day. He wouldn't want to see you like this, would he, Pinocchio? He wouldn't want you to go around feeling this way, would he?"

"No," Pinocchio sniffled. "No, he wouldn't. He'd want me to be happy, Mr. Terence." He protested, "But how can I be happy without him? How can I go on without him? I miss him so much!"

Terence brushed his thumb delicately across the boy's moist cheek.

"Maybe you always will miss him," he said empathetically. "And there is certainly no shame in that, my dear little friend. There is no shame in missing your father, in feeling sad about his passing. If anything, it's a sign that you truly love him. And you will find happiness again, someday. Perhaps it doesn't seem that way now…but you will. Trust me on this."

Pinocchio hesitated another minute, before giving voice to the question that troubled him above all else: "Who's going to take care of me?"

Terence knew his little wooden friend had a point there. With Geppetto gone, the child had nowhere to go, and no one to look after him. While Jiminy certainly did an outstanding job in looking after him, Pinocchio needed someone bigger and stronger to shelter him from harm, to love him and tend to his everyday needs—like a true parent.

The young man knew the very answer to Pinocchio's inquiry, and he wasted no time in giving it to him.

"I will, Pinocchio."

Both Pinocchio and Jiminy stared at him upon hearing this. "_You_, Mr. Terence?"

"Yes," Terence said. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Are—are you serious?" Jiminy nearly spluttered.

The look Terence gave them testified, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was dead serious.

"Of course, I am, Jiminy. I have never been more serious about anything in my life." Shifting his focus to Pinocchio once more, the young man declared solemnly, "I want you to be with me, Pinocchio. I want you to come live with me, and stay with me, as my son." He added meekly, "I will admit, I've never done a thing like this before, never having a child to call my own. I have actually been quite the loner myself, for a great deal of my life. And I don't know if what I do would be the right thing, or the best thing for you…but I do want to make sure you'll never be alone again. And, I sincerely wish, with all my heart, to make you happy. God surely knows you deserve to be, after all that life has dealt you."

Pinocchio just went on gaping at Terence, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing.

"R-Really?" he stammered.

Terence nodded fervently. "Really and truly. So, what do you say? Do you agree?"

As Pinocchio peered into the man's royal blue eyes, and saw the warmth and the fatherly love they radiated, the puppet felt as if some tremendous weight were being lifted from his shoulders. Deep inside his barren and desolate heart, he felt a flame of hope begin to flicker, as the flames flickering in the hearth. That fire slowly, yet surely, began to spread all through the boy's body, warming him, strengthening him. After at least one minute more, Pinocchio finally gave Terence his answer: "Yes—yes, I do, Mr. Terence. Yes, I want to be with you!"

And the very instant these words were spoken, he knew them with all his heart to be true.

Terence said nothing, but the smile that illuminated his face spoke more than plenty.

He offered his arms to Pinocchio once again, and Pinocchio readily flung himself into them, hugging Terence for all he was worth. Terence squeezed him back every bit as passionately.

They clung to one another like that for a brief time, until Pinocchio realized something.

"Wait," he protested, drawing back. "What about Jiminy?"

Terence continued to smile down at the puppet as he chided gently, "What do you mean, 'what about Jiminy'? He's coming, too."

"Really?" Pinocchio said again, feeling another thrill of hope. "He is?"

"I heard that!" said Jiminy elatedly. His entire face was aglow as he moved in closer to them. With one arm encircling Pinocchio, Terence held out his other hand to the cricket, who didn't hesitate to spring into his palm. "Gee—thanks, Terence!" Jiminy enthused. "That's awfully swell! We'll be like a family!"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Terence replied.

To Pinocchio, he added softly, "I know I'll never be able to truly take your father's place, Pinocchio. But I will do my best."

This heartfelt pledge gave Pinocchio great comfort, in addition to hope. While he still yearned for his father, and while he knew it would never be the same without Geppetto, it did relieve his spirit to know at least there was someone in this vast, dark, lonely world for him, that he was no longer on his own.

At length, Pinocchio couldn't help questioning, "Are you an angel, Mr. Terence?"

"Angel?" This took Terence somewhat by surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"My father used to say that angels are everywhere," Pinocchio said in a hushed voice, a reminiscent gleam in his eye. "He said they tend to appear in unexpected places, at unexpected times. He also said angels are always watching over us, that they help us when we are in need of help. And you have certainly been there, Mr. Terence, when I needed help the most."

It shook Terence to his roots to know Pinocchio considered him as good as an angel. And yet, it was not a bad sensation.

Rather, it filled his heart to overflowing, like a basin that contained too much water, and left him feeling humble. "Well," the white-haired youth said with a weak chuckle, his eyes welling up afresh, "I don't know about a_ real_ angel, exactly…but I will certainly be there for you, whenever you need me, and I shall always look out for you and take care of you."

For the first time that evening, a true smile spread over Pinocchio's face, bringing a special light to his watery eyes that Terence never saw before.

Regardless of his ordeal at the docks, as well as the circus, Pinocchio suddenly felt better than he had all night, or in the longest time.

He felt an inexpressible flood of affection and gratitude towards the man sitting before him.

Terence had done so much for him already…and he had now given Pinocchio the very best gift of all.

Slowly, Pinocchio scooted closer to Terence and huddled up against his frame one last time, mumbling into his habit, "I love you, Mr. Terence."

Terence smiled at those simple yet strong words, even as the tears proceeded to leak from his eyes, and gush down his face. "I love you, too, Pinocchio," he replied, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart. Wrapping the child warmly in his arms and dipping his forehead toward Pinocchio's shoulder, he vowed, "I promise, I will never let anything happen to you…my son."

**

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**

**Note from Author: **_This is in response to one of the reviews I received for this just now. When Terence said _"I know I'll never be able to truly take your father's place, Pinocchio. But I will do my best"_, he meant he would do his best to be a good father to him. He never meant he would actually try to replace Geppetto. _

_Basically, what he is saying is: "I know I'm not your real father, but I will do my best to be__ an acceptable foster father." __Just thought I'd clear up that little misunderstanding. _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	13. Chapter 13: The Conspiracy

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Now that finals are out of the way, I've got a little more time to kill (at least for the time being), and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and work on my Pinocchio story some more. _

_I told you Master Fabrizio will be coming back, and the chapter you are about to read proves it. _

_For those of you who are still uneasy about the previous chapter, let me restate that Terence only promised Pinocchio he would do his best to take proper care of him, that he will try to be as gentle and tender and loving as Geppetto had been. He never said he would try to take Geppetto's place. Terence isn't that sort of person. He knows he is not Pinocchio's true father, and he never will be; but he promises to do his best to do a good job at keeping Pinocchio safe and sheltered, especially considering he's never had any children of his own. So, you can all breathe a little more easily, okay? _

_We now understand each other better, do we? Good!_

**

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Chapter 13: The Conspiracy**

"We have looked everywhere, Master Fabrizio. That puppet is nowhere to be found."

"That little wooden scrap has to be around here somewhere, Vitale," said Fabrizio, who sat at his desk with his feet propped up and crossed together, a glass of whiskey cradled in his right palm, a smoldering cigar wedged between his teeth. "He couldn't have just vanished into thin air!"

It was a quarter past midnight, and Fabrizio was consorting with his staff in his private tent at the circus grounds.

The extravaganza at the big top had long since ended, the crowds long since dispersed. Now, it was just Fabrizio and his chief employees. They had striven all night to locate Pinocchio after the puppet ran away, but, as Vitale had said, the boy was nowhere to be found. Aside from Vitale, Dino, Gianni, and Paolo, Lady Arietta was present in the pavilion as well, along with Gahiji, Fergal, and the two clowns, who were known as Armando and Bernardo. Most of them were still in costume from their previous performance. Arietta continued to wear her beautiful tulle dress, though her fine gold hair was no longer pulled back, so it now draped loosely over her shoulders, and Armando and Bernardo had most of their clown makeup on yet.

"That poor child," said Gahiji sadly, recalling Pinocchio's terrible incident from that evening. "I do hope he is all right."

"So do I," agreed Fergal, in his booming, African-accented voice.

"After a humiliation like that," said Bernardo empathetically, "I wouldn't be the least surprised if that boy refuses to show his face in public again for the rest of his life."

"How could you do that to him?" Arietta demanded fiercely of the four trapeze artists, her pale blue eyes blazing with righteous anger. "How could you have simply pulled a small, helpless boy from the crowd, and forced him to undergo all those outrageous stunts? You could have killed him!"

"Hey, sweetheart, we were only doing our job," Paolo shot back defensively.

"And you, Fabrizio," Arietta said, now rounding on him, "you just stood there, and did nothing!"

"Why did you have to put the boy through such torture?" Bernardo asked sharply.

The smoke from Fabrizio's cigar shrouded the man's face like a faint veil, making his pallid face look all the more eerie and ghostlike.

"I prefer to think of it as an accomplishment, Bernardo," he said, in his usual slick manner. "Our spectators have certainly proven so."

He motioned toward a significant mountain of gold and silver coins piled at the other end of his desk. "You see that? All that came from this evening's show alone. We have accumulated five times as much in one night as we have within the past three years. And you saw the emotional response of the crowd. They were positively mad about the boy, and the performance he put on for them tonight. Why, if everyone in the entire world reacted to our panoply like that, I'd be able to retire within a year's time, and live a king's life. Furthermore, this is precisely what I live and strive for—to entertain my guests, to give them exactly what they come and pay for, no matter what the expense."

"Including the expense of a poor, defenseless boy, with feelings," muttered Bernardo under his breath.

Gahiji shook his head, his sea-gray eyes regarding Fabrizio with deep abhorrence. "You disgust me, Fabrizio. Sometimes I wonder why I ever agreed to work for you in the first place."

"Me too," said Armando, and Fergal and Arietta vigorously agreed.

"You all know the situation we're in," Fabrizio informed them, setting his glass aside for the time being and removing his feet so they now rested properly on the floor. "You know how tight a spot our company is in, and has been in for the last several years. In times such as these, we must take what we can get. This is why we must go after that puppet, and get him back. A spectacle like that is worth a fortune. We cannot allow such a fortune to slip right through our fingers."

"A _fortune?_" Arietta echoed incredulously.

"He is a child, Fabrizio," said Armando indignantly, "not some piece of property! We can't just take him."

"I say we leave him be," insisted Bernardo. "We have done quite more than enough to him already."

"Suppose the child didn't want to join us, even if we did track him down," Gahiji said to his master matter-of-factly. "Suppose he refuses to participate in the act. What are you to do then?"

"Pish-posh," Fabrizio answered the gangly snake charmer, with a dismissive flip of his gloved hand. "Kids are resilient, Gahiji. They get over it in no time. And, you know, every kid dreams of being a big star. All that puppet needs is more confidence, is all. He'll be one of us before you know it."

"It isn't right," said Fergal ascetically, "kidnapping an innocent child."

Fabrizio took a deep breath and exhaled three smoke rings before replying tenaciously, "What becomes of that boy is really no concern of you lot. _Your_ job is to make money. Do you hear?"

"You mean, make money for _you_, Fabrizio," said Arietta bitterly.

"You hardly pay us enough for half a meal," Armando added, just as bitterly.

"We do all of the work around here," Bernardo chimed in, his eyes burning despite his mirthful clown façade, "and you take all of the profits for yourself. While we're breaking our backs for you, all you do is sit around counting your precious coins, or drowning yourself in booze and tobacco." While his employees thus spoke, Fabrizio gathered up a handful of coins and let the coins run through his fingers, into his other hand, so that the air rang with their musical jingle. When Bernardo had done speaking, Fabrizio slammed them all back down onto the table at once.

"And I suppose you vagrants were any better off, _before_ you came into my employment?" he said, now rising to his feet, his hollow raven eyes narrowing into sinister slits. "Who knows where you might be wandering today, or what might have become of you, had I not been charitable enough to take you under my wing?" He strode up to Gahiji and addressed him first. "Like you, Gahiji. When I first found you, you were so blasted broke, you couldn't afford so much as a meager cup of coffee." Then he turned to Fergal, who was a good head or so taller than he was, and at least twice as strong. "And you, Fergal—would you rather spend the rest of your miserable life enslaved in the sugar plantations, in the Caribbean?"

Fergal said nothing, but the muscle along his jaw was firmly set, and his giant brown hands clenched into iron fists, knowing all too well of the fate that awaited him at that other place.

"And don't even get me started on you two bums," Fabrizio said to Armando and Bernardo. "Always on the move, trying to make something useful of yourselves in this wretched world, never able to pinch two pennies together, leading a vagabond life from morning till night, with no friends or allies to back you up—does such a life appeal to you more than the one you have now?"

Finally, he faced Lady Arietta. "Even you, my dear. Are you not grateful that I had the humanity to shield you from the authorities, that I provided you with a home and a job, that you are spending the prime of your life as a leading light in my circus, when you could have very well landed behind bars?"

"It was only half a loaf of bread I stole from you, Fabrizio," Arietta protested. "And I was only seven!"

"Yes, yes," said Fabrizio sardonically, "and you were just a poor, lonely, vulnerable little street urchin, with nothing more than the rags on your back, and you were starving, blah, blah, blah."

Arietta felt her face burn, and she knew it was turning scarlet.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then bit her tongue at the last second and simply ducked her head, her fair hair spilling down to hide her.

"You owe me, the lot of you," Fabrizio announced to the entire group. "I have the legitimate authority over you all. Therefore, you shall all do as I say, exactly as I say, and you will be swift and silent about it. Anyone who conducts themselves otherwise shall face the unpleasant consequences."

His grim eyes roamed very slowly over each and every one of the bunch, absorbing their faces like a sponge absorbing water. "Do we understand each other?"

Bernardo was the only one to respond to that.

"All too well, sir," he said, in a voice so low he could scarcely be heard, but Fabrizio already knew what the clown's response was going to be.

"We'll find that puppet, if it's the last thing we do," Fabrizio swore, his tone and countenance proving beyond a doubt there would be no further argument about the matter. "There will be no rest, until that fish is served to me, on a silver platter." To everyone, including the four trapeze artists, the ringmaster ordered, "Now, get out of here, and get to work."

Without another word, his employees turned their backs to him and set out on their way, one after the other.

Only Dino remained behind, as he had something to ask his master.

"Master Fabrizio, sir, may I speak?" he inquired.

"If you must," said Fabrizio aversely, as he returned to his desk and snuffed out the last bit of his cigar.

"If we find that puppet—I mean," Dino hastily corrected himself, seeing the baleful look Fabrizio shot at him, "_when _we find him, what are we to do about that strange man with the white hair, who accompanies him? I imagine he will not let us anywhere near the lad, especially after what came about tonight. And if he found out what we are up to—why, surely, he'd turn us in."

"Don't worry about that man," said Fabrizio resolutely, recalling Terence perfectly. The iciness that emanated from the ringmaster's stare as he spoke sent a slight chill crawling down Dino's spine. "He'll give us no trouble, I shall personally see to that. I'll silence him if I must…as well as anyone else who gets in my way."

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	14. Chapter 14: Assault and Abduction

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Chapter 14 is now ready for reading! This is where the story gets better, and worse, if that makes sense. If you want to know what happens, that's what proceeding with the reading is for! _

_And this isn't the end of the story; we still got a bit of a way to go. _

**

* * *

Chapter 14: Assault and Abduction**

The next day, Pinocchio could be found accompanying Terence in the marketplace. Jiminy, naturally, was with them. They were just about ready to take leave—now that Pinocchio had a new home, a legitimate guardian, and all—but they needed to purchase some food first, along with several other necessities, before they went on their way.

Pinocchio had felt an initial uneasiness about addressing Terence as "Father" or "Papa", so Terence very kindly assured the puppet that it was perfectly all right to simply call him "Terence".

"After all," the man had added, with a touch of humor, "'Mister' makes me sound old."

This made Pinocchio giggle somewhat. But the wooden boy, indeed, couldn't help but wonder just why Terence's hair and beard were as white and as shining as they were, especially considering how young, strapping, and agile Terence himself was physically—or appeared to be, anyway. Jiminy wondered over this, too, and when Pinocchio asked Terence about it at one point, Terence simply told the little puppet, "Oh, that's just the way it has always been, Pinocchio. I was born with silver-white hair." He raked one hand through his thick, luminous locks while he thus spoke, and of course, they just tumbled right back down into his eyes after he pushed them away from his face.

This led Jiminy to bring another matter to light. "Exactly how old are you anyway, Terence?" the cricket asked.

"Older and younger than most people realize," Terence replied casually.

"What does that mean?" questioned Pinocchio.

Terence opened his mouth at first, as if to answer, but then he stopped and gave out a brief chuckle. With a somewhat bemused shake of his head, he just said, "We'll talk more about this later. Right now, Pinocchio, we still have a good number of things to buy, and a good number of things left to do, before the day is over. Come along."

So Pinocchio readily tagged after Terence as the man set off.

After the episode at the circus the previous night, Pinocchio had been hesitant about showing his face in public. Terence, knowing how Pinocchio must feel after a stunt like that (and unable to say he blamed the boy), made sure to bring him to the market early in the day, when there were not as many people lurking about. So far, no one else appeared to recognize Pinocchio, but Pinocchio remained close to Terence's side all the same. Terence still felt considerably guilty and ashamed for what he had put Pinocchio through—and it touched his heart that the puppet still wanted to be with him, and didn't reject him, as the young man would have expected.

While they went about their business, neither of them were aware that Master Fabrizio himself was spying on them from behind a corner, along with several of his lackeys from the circus, including Gianni, Dino, Vitale, and Paolo. All of them were dressed in solid black, and Fabrizio had forced his men to mask themselves, so that no one else would recognize them.

As the evil circus master regarded Terence and Pinocchio in the near distance, his thin lips curled once more into that revolting smile, and he thought in his mind with sinister glee, _And so the predator corners his prey, and waits for precisely the right moment to pounce…_

Jiminy, who was perched at that moment on Terence's shoulder, felt that old sixth sense begin to kick in once more, all of a sudden. Almost without realizing it, his tiny head started twisting every which way, his sharp eyes darting in all directions. He couldn't say why, but he had the most peculiar feeling that they were being watched, that something—or someone—was waiting for them, and it wasn't a good thing. Terence noticed the cricket's unease, and asked him, "What is it, Jiminy? Is everything okay?"

The man spoke very gently and softly, not wishing to frighten Pinocchio or cause him any unnecessary alarm.

"I have a bad feeling, Terence," Jiminy whispered back apprehensively, as he continued to glance about. "Call me a crazy cricket, but I don't think it's safe for us to be here."

Terence, who relied on the cricket's intuition wholeheartedly, and would trust Jiminy with his very life, asked in the same hushed tone, "Why is that?"

"I don't know…but I sense someone's watching us, that something terrible is waiting to happen."

Like Jiminy, Terence looked from here to there, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. All the same, the man knew better than to get complacent about Jiminy's word of warning.

He was determined to never make that same mistake again, if he could help it.

"Stay close to me, Pinocchio," the silvery-haired youth admonished.

An uncalled-for command, he knew, for Pinocchio refused to ever leave him; but Pinocchio scuttled a little closer all the same, and Terence slid a protective arm around his shoulders.

_Looks like we may have to do this the hard way, _Fabrizio thought, upon seeing this.

While Terence and another man were engaged in a bargain over some freshly baked bread—the man was trying to sell his wares for more than they were really worth, and Terence was amiably attempting to get him to knock it all down to a more reasonable price—Pinocchio suddenly found himself eclipsed in a tall shadow. And when a not-so-friendly hand grabbed the boy by the shoulder, he gasped out loud and jumped a mile. This caught Terence's attention immediately, and both he and Pinocchio whirled around to discover Fabrizio standing right there.

"Fabrizio!" said Terence, as soon as he recognized him.

_I'd thought I smelled a rat! _Jiminy thought bitterly, scowling at the loathsome man.

"Well, well, well!" said Fabrizio genially, as if they were all old friends who hadn't spoken in years. "This is quite a pleasant surprise!"

Pinocchio said nothing, but only bolted behind Terence and cowered behind the young man in fear, though he dared to peek out a little.

Like Jiminy, Terence narrowed his cool blue eyes as he regarded Fabrizio, and the muscle along his jaw pulled straight.

"And how fares my little circus star this morning?" Fabrizio addressed Pinocchio, in his sickly sweet way.

"I don't want to be a star in the circus!" Pinocchio never hesitated to blurt. "I'm never going back there again!"

Terence told Fabrizio very coldly, "You have no right to come anywhere near Pinocchio again, Fabrizio, after what you and your cronies had done to him last night. And _I_ should have known better than to accept your so-called invitation to begin with!"

The other man they had been conversing with was giving them curious looks, so Terence simply led Pinocchio away from the area, saying brusquely, "Come on, Pinocchio, let's go."

Before they had gone many paces, Fabrizio hurried swiftly after them, and placed himself directly in front of them, forcing them to stop.

"Will you get out of our way?" Terence demanded. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"Now, now," Fabrizio said cajolingly, "let's not get so melodramatic—"

"Don't give us any of that 'melodramatic' mumbo-jumbo, Fabrizio," Terence cut him off sharply. "I saw for myself what happened back there. Just about everyone in town saw what happened for themselves, and you didn't even do anything to try to stop it! All you did was stand there the whole time, and watch. Don't think you can get back into Pinocchio's good graces so easily after a stunt like that, let alone mine!"

"But, my good sir, you don't understand. The boy was an absolute sensation!"

"I was?" This perked Pinocchio's interest, in spite of himself.

"Oh, yes," said Fabrizio to the puppet, "everyone _loved_ you! After the show last night, no one would cease to talk about you. They said it was the greatest performance they had ever had the pleasure of attending. Why, this show was the most profitable one my company had given in over three years!"

"Really?" said Pinocchio, his eyes widening somewhat.

Terence wasn't about to buy that for an instant. "Even if Pinocchio was a success, you still hurt him all the same," he said sharply. "You still put his life in danger—and that's not worth all the gold and jewels in Christendom! I don't care how big a hit your show was, Fabrizio, or just how much revenue your company rakes in; and I don't care what you say, or what you do. Both Pinocchio and I will have nothing to do with the likes of you, ever again! And that's my final say on the matter!"

_You tell him, Terence! _Jiminy thought jubilantly.

Pinocchio took a slight step back from Terence; he had never seen or heard the young man so angry.

Terence gave Fabrizio a none-too-friendly shove, and his last words to him were, "Now, stand aside!"

"Pinocchio, my boy," Fabrizio cajoled, as Terence hauled the puppet away, "you're passing up a golden opportunity! You can be famous! You could have your very own niche in the edifice of history!"

"Just keep going, Pinocchio," Terence instructed. "Don't listen to him. Act like he is not even there."

Pinocchio was all too glad to comply. The boy had already had enough of fame and prestige. It had already cost him far too much. He would much rather be a plain wooden puppet than a celebrity. And if making a fool of himself and risking his very life was what he had to do in order to be famous—he didn't even want to go there.

When Fabrizio saw that they were not going to stop or listen to him, he didn't even bother to get mad; but rather smiled that cruel and nasty smile of his, for he had Terence and Pinocchio precisely where he wanted them. As Terence and Pinocchio passed by the alley where Fabrizio had commanded the rest of his gang to hide, the masked men sprang forth from the shadows and lunged out at them all of a sudden, all at once—like wolves lunging out at their unsuspecting prey.

Before Terence and Pinocchio even realized what was happening, two of the strongest men seized hold of Terence and grappled with him, while another snatched Pinocchio away, slinging the puppet over one shoulder like a bag of potatoes. When Pinocchio screamed to Terence for help, Terence somehow found the strength to wrest himself free from his masked oppressors. Before the two men had a chance to take him again, Terence kicked one of them swiftly in the gut, knocking the wind right out of him and making the man double over in pain. Then Terence hurled a furious punch to the other's face, scoring a direct hit that sent the second man spiraling off balance and falling to the ground.

Terence then wasted no time in going after the man who had Pinocchio in his possession, and he tackled him with full force from behind, so that all three of them went flying to the ground.

As Terence struggled to pin the man down, he shouted to Pinocchio, "Quick, Pinocchio! _Run!_"

"But, Terence—" Pinocchio protested, not wanting to leave him.

"Go!" the white-haired youth urged him. "Don't worry about me! Just go, _now!_"

Knowing this wasn't the time to argue, Pinocchio did as Terence said and began to flee. Jiminy, who had flown from Terence's shoulder, hurried after the puppet as fast as he could. The wooden boy hadn't gone very far, however, when another one of the masked strangers caught him by the collar, saying, "Not so fast, little boy!"

Pinocchio cried out in terror as he was roughly yanked back.

When Jiminy tried to stop the man (being a cricket, there was no way in the world he could take on a full-grown human; but he wasn't going to just stand by idly and let Pinocchio be hurt, either), the toe of the man's boot unknowingly kicked him, and the force knocked Jiminy flat against a solid brick wall.

While the blow wasn't lethal, it did knock Jiminy's lights out cold, and he fell hopelessly to the ground and remained still, his top hat lying sideways next to him.

Terence didn't see this happen, but he did see the predicament Pinocchio was in, and he hollered indignantly to the one who had him, "Hey, let him go!" And he rushed out at him and pounced on him from behind, wrapping his arms around the man's neck in a none-too-friendly headlock.

"Oi, get off me!" the man shouted lividly, and as he fought to extort Terence from him, the diversion enabled Pinocchio to make another dash for it.

Meanwhile, the man that Terence had brought down only a moment ago came up from the rear, bringing a decent-sized wooden board with him.

Using both hands, the perpetrator swung the board at Terence with all his might—and struck the young man squarely in the back of the head.

Terence was knocked unconscious in an instant. He didn't even cry out or groan, and his hold on his other opponent loosened, and the young man dropped to the cold stone-paved ground in a limp, lifeless heap, landing with a dull _thud_.

Upon hearing the thud, Pinocchio skidded to a halt at once and turned back.

And when he saw Terence lying there, not moving, the boy felt his heart stop beating altogether. It was as though the very earth itself had just split apart beneath his feet.

It took but one look at Terence, and the man with the board who stood over his body, to figure out what had just happened.

Pinocchio couldn't move himself; his wooden limbs seemed to have seized up. Nor could he breathe; it was as if a two-ton boulder were pressing down on his lungs. He didn't even realize it when two or three of the remaining men surrounded him and laid their hands on him. Nor did he care. All he could truly do was stare at the still form of his friend, his guardian…the only man in the whole world, aside from his father, who had ever truly cared about him, whom he himself had ever come to trust and love.

_Terence, _was all his mind could register. _Terence…Terence…Terence…_

A gunshot rang out right at that moment, causing everyone to stop what they were doing instantly, and freeze. When Pinocchio looked to one side, he spotted Fabrizio standing there with a revolver in his right hand. The revolver was aimed skyward, and a thin curl of smoke from the nozzle testified of a fresh shot. Fabrizio's finger still rested upon the trigger.

The alley was now dead silent. No one moved, or spoke, or made so much as a peep. You could easily hear a pin drop there.

Fabrizio calmly blew across the smoking end of his gun, before tucking his weapon away and saying diplomatically, "That will be quite enough of that, gentlemen."

He sauntered over to Terence, and the man responsible for injuring him hastily backed down.

Terence never stirred as Fabrizio nudged him with his foot. That was when Pinocchio was truly convinced that the young man was gone forever, and it shattered him. Hot tears welled up in the boy's eyes and began to pour steadily down his cheeks, but he never made a sound. The shock and the pain that engulfed him was beyond worldly description.

It was all like a dream—a truly horrible dream, from which Pinocchio desperately wished he could awaken but knew he never would, no matter how hard he tried.

"Well," said Fabrizio at length, as he regarded Terence, "that takes care of that." Turning to Pinocchio, the man said, his tone and countenance as cold and hard as stone, "Now, then, Pinocchio, you are coming with us, and you are coming quietly. You will do everything we tell you, exactly as we tell you, and you're not going to give us any trouble. You got that?"

At a loss for words, Pinocchio could only nod faintly, and Fabrizio said simply, "Good."

Then he ordered his men, "Now, let's get out of here, before anything else comes about, or anyone else has a chance to find us out."

So his men followed him out of the alley, toward their covered wagon, which was parked quite close by. And Pinocchio went with them, without a fight.

The poor puppet never resisted as they picked him up, literally threw him into the back of the wagon, and slammed the door firmly shut.

And as the horses were roused and the wagon started moving along, Pinocchio simply curled up in the darkest, furthermost corner, and allowed the bitter tears to fall.

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	15. Chapter 15: Separation

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Presenting chapter 15. This is what happens when Terence and Jiminy come around. And boy, are they in for a most unpleasant surprise…_

**

* * *

Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**

* * *

Chapter 15: Separation**

It was well after nightfall by the time Terence finally returned to his senses. The young man awoke to find himself sprawled facedown on the cold ground, with his head in his arms. With a soft groan, he very slowly raised himself to his hands and knees, his head drooping low from his shoulders, his tangled silvery locks hanging freely in front of his face.

He gave his head a shake, to clear away his befuddlement—and winced sharply at a throbbing pain from the back of his skull.

It felt as though someone had clobbered him a good one in the head, with a loaded bag of bricks.

When Terence lifted one hand to the back of his head, he could feel a sizable lump within that area, and the lump proved to be so tender that even the slightest touch made Terence gasp.

What had just happened? It took a minute or so for everything to come trickling back into memory. When Terence looked up all the way and glanced around for Pinocchio, the puppet was nowhere to be seen. Aside from Terence, the whole alley appeared to be deserted. There was not another soul to be seen or heard, anywhere at all.

"Pinocchio?" Terence's voice emerged as little more than a croak from his throat.

There was no answer.

Slowly, using his slightly stronger knee to elevate himself, Terence climbed back to his feet. "Pinocchio?" he repeated, his voice stronger and more perceptible this time. "Pinocchio? Pinocchio? Where are you?" When he still received no response, and when he could not find his little wooden friend anywhere, worry and alarm began to rise within him.

"Where are you, Pinocchio?" he cried again, his tone rising significantly in pitch and intensity with every syllable. "Pinocchio? Answer me!"

He looked frantically about, every which way…and spotted a tiny figure on the ground, a short distance away, at the base of a brick wall.

When he realized it was Jiminy, Terence gasped out loud, and fled to his side at once. As soon as he reached Jiminy, he knelt and very carefully scooped the lifeless cricket up, cradling his tiny companion gently in both hands. "Jiminy?" he said softly, praying the cricket could hear him. "Jiminy, are you all right? Speak to me, say something…please."

To the young man's deep relief, Jiminy almost immediately gave out a moan, and his eyes gradually fluttered open.

Like Terence, it took Jiminy a minute to realize where he was, and he was somewhat surprised and bewildered to discover the white-haired youth holding him.

And also like Terence, the cricket woke up with a splitting headache.

"Ohh…my head," he groaned, raising both hands delicately to his little skull and pulling a grimace.

"Are you all right, Jiminy?" Terence asked him again, as his hands continued to support him.

"I guess so." Jiminy added on wryly, "But now I understand how the eight-ball feels when it's knocked into the corner pocket during a round of pool."

When he was finally convinced that Jiminy really was all right, Terence set his little friend on his own feet again. Jiminy picked up his fallen hat from the ground, and dusted it off a bit before very carefully setting it back in place on his head. That was when he became fully aware that there were far too few of them in that area. "Hey," he protested, "where's Pinoke?"

"I don't know," said Terence, looking and sounding nothing short of distraught. Springing to his feet once more, the young man went on agitatedly, "We've got to find him!"

"Wait for me, Terence!" said Jiminy as the man ran off, and he hurried to catch up with him.

Terence raced into the street, which had long since emptied out by that hour. No one else lurked about. Most of the buildings and houses were completely dark, and locked up tight. The clouds that veiled the night sky were getting noticeably thicker and darker, and a chill wind and metallic smell in the air signified the arrival of rain.

Sure enough, several icy drops pelted against Terence's face, and a roll of thunder resounded within his ears.

Paying no mind to this, Terence cupped both his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, and hollered out urgently, "Pinocchio!_ Pinocchio!_"

"Pinocchio!" Jiminy echoed, giving out a shrill whistle—his and Pinocchio's standard way of communication.

"Pinocchio!" Terence shouted again. "Pinocchio, where are you? _Pinocchio!_"

Terence could not have known it, of course, but this was almost exactly the way it had been with Geppetto, when the poor old man was out searching for Pinocchio himself, not so long ago.

"Pinocchio!" the youth cried out once more, his fear and desperation growing by the minute.

Jiminy whistled a second time, though the whistle was barely audible over the howl of the rapidly rising winds.

Meanwhile, the rain was coming down faster by the minute. It wasn't long before both Terence and Jiminy were thoroughly soaked. Water poured off the brim of Jiminy's hat and leaked steadily into his collar, while Terence's wet hair shone like the molten moonlight it resembled. With Jiminy at his heels, Terence moved swiftly from here to there, shouting Pinocchio's name into the night over and over until he was practically hoarse, and getting all the more upset when he received no answer, and his efforts to track the puppet down proved fruitless.

_Oh, _Terence's heart bemoaned, _if any harm has come to that poor boy, I'll never forgive myself! Never! Dear heaven above, let Pinocchio be all right! Please, _please_ let him be all right—_

Then, in the middle of this prayer, Terence discovered something upon the ground that made him stop dead in his tracks. Jiminy, who had no warning, ended up plowing into the man's boot from behind and toppling over backwards. Terence didn't notice this, as his attention was focused entirely on the object he'd just come across.

It was a hat: a small yellow Tyrolean cap, with a drooping red feather in it, a thin blue band holding the feather in place. The whole thing lay in the middle of a shallow, muddy, icy puddle.

Terence would know that cap anywhere, and he whispered in disbelief, "It can't be…"

"What is it, Terence?" Jiminy asked, peeking around Terence's boot. When he saw the hat himself, his eyes widened at the sight, and his whole face abruptly paled. "Oh, my…"

Almost as if he were in a trance, Terence stooped down and plucked up the hat. He held it gingerly in both hands, hardly able to take his eyes off the thing.

"Pinocchio," was all he could say, his voice raw and feeble.

They must have taken Pinocchio away, those men in the masks who attacked them earlier.

Terence also recalled Fabrizio, and he was more than sure that the man must have been the mastermind behind all this.

Pinocchio was gone…and there was no way of knowing where in all of the world they could have taken him.

"No," Jiminy kept whispering, his mouth moving almost imperceptibly. "No, no…Pinoke…"

Terence just stood there, as still and silent as a statue, holding onto all he had left of his friend, his brother…his son. Overhead, a fork of lightning split the sky. The boom of thunder that followed was the explosion of cannon fire. Finally, Terence's disbelief switched to devastation, and in sheer anguish, the young man wailed one last time to the heavens, "_Pinocchio!_"

With that, he plunged to his knees on the wet cobblestones, and the water that was streaming over his face was no longer just the rain alone.


	16. Chapter 16: The Crying Clown

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_After well over a solid week of fighting the usual fight with writer's block, I present you loyal readers with a fresh new chapter. This is where we see how Pinocchio fares, after Fabrizio takes him away. _

_I must warn you, this chapter's pretty dang depressing. I'd guess it's the most depressing chapter of them all. _

**

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Chapter 16: The Crying Clown**

"Do you think he's all right?" Arietta said softly to her companions.

She, along with Fergal, Armando, Bernardo, and Gahiji, stood in the opening of Pinocchio's private tent, watching the poor little puppet, who lay forlornly on his cot at the far end with his back turned to them. Fabrizio had ordered them earlier, "One of you go in there and feed the kid, and then get out. Don't forget, we have rehearsals for our next show, and I will not have my schedule disrupted." He hadn't specified which of the group ought to be the one to actually deliver Pinocchio his food, so they all decided to visit the boy together.

"Aww, just look at him," said Bernardo solicitously, as he regarded Pinocchio. "The poor kid."

"He sure looks blue, doesn't he?" declared Armando.

"Actually, he looks more of a rough sandy-brown to me," said Fergal, looking and sounding a bit puzzled.

"No, no," Armando said to his comrade, "I mean, he's depressed. Busted. Brokenhearted. Gone about as low as he or anyone else could possibly go…emotionally speaking."

"Oh," Fergal said, comprehension now dawning on his broad, coffee-colored face. "I see."

"The boy really must be down on his luck," Bernardo remarked. Though his and Armando's faces were painted vivid, happy colors, as always, their eyes were dim, and their countenances were nothing short of mournful. Though they were all involved in a circus, it was like a funeral around that place, at that time…worse than a funeral.

"Now," Gahiji added on gloomily, "he is like one of us. This puts all of us in, as they say, the same boat."

"Do you think the child would let us talk to him?" asked Arietta.

Gahiji, Bernardo, and Fergal only shrugged their shoulders unknowingly at her when she faced them directly, and Armando just said, "I suppose it's worth a try."

So, Arietta was the first to move toward Pinocchio, and one by one, the rest of the lot followed.

"Pinocchio?" said Arietta as they drew near, speaking very softly and very mildly. "Pinocchio?"

Without turning his head, Pinocchio answered disconsolately, "Go away. I don't want to see anybody."

They all felt their hearts melt upon viewing him up close, and especially upon hearing the tone of his voice. Arietta sat down next to him on the cot and lightly touched his shoulder. "Come, now, Pinocchio," she beckoned, "please talk to us. We're your friends." She paused, and added tentatively, "We_ wish _to be your friends."

"Come on, kid," Bernardo said, in his best endeavor to sound encouraging. "Cheer up! No one likes an unhappy face, especially around a place like this. Come on, give us a smile, won't you?"

Pinocchio glanced over his shoulder at them, but didn't answer. Nor did he crack so much as half a smile. The sorrow, the emptiness, the pure sense of loss contained within the boy's eyes almost made Arietta want to cry herself on the spot. Gahiji could feel his own throat tighten rather painfully. Even Fergal, despite his extraordinary build and his phenomenal strength, felt his own eyes sting and water, and Bernardo and Armando hoped they wouldn't spoil their clown makeup by weeping. Pinocchio, as Armando had rightfully stated, had reached the lowest ebb he could ever reach. Just when the boy's broken heart had begun to heal, Fabrizio had gone and shattered it all over again…this time, beyond anyone's ability to repair.

Pinocchio no longer cared about what happened to him, or what anyone did with him. Without Terence, without Jiminy, without Geppetto, life was no longer worth living.

Pinocchio knew he would simply have to accept the fact that this was where he belonged, that this would be his home from this time on.

Fabrizio could do whatever he liked with him; it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Overcome with compassion, Arietta dragged Pinocchio closer to her and tenderly wrapped him in her thin arms. The feel of her gentle embrace reminded Pinocchio of the way Terence used to hold him when he was emotionally shattered, of the way Geppetto used to cradle him. Pinocchio wanted to pull away, but didn't have the strength to do so.

"It's all right, Pinocchio," Arietta whispered, trying her best to soothe him. "It's going to be all right…"

But Pinocchio knew she was wrong. It was _not_ going to be all right, and it never would be all right again. Both Terence and Geppetto were gone, and he could never get them back. And he didn't even have Jiminy to comfort him or lift his spirits anymore. More than anything in the world right now, Pinocchio longed to die himself. Death was a mercy compared to this. He remembered Terence telling him before that he would find happiness again…but just when Pinocchio had begun to believe he might have found that happiness, the cruel jaws of fate had to come and snatch it all away from him. Terence had given the puppet something to hope for. What did he have to hope for, now?

"What's happened to you, kid?" asked Armando softly, crouching down to Pinocchio's level. "What's come about you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Pinocchio answered heavily, but it was as clear as the broad daylight that life had dealt the child some very harsh blows.

"We know just how you feel, lad," said Fergal in a low voice, his dark eyes glistening with heartfelt pity.

"Life has been no piece of cake for the rest of us, either," said Bernardo glumly.

"Everyone thinks life in a circus is so thrilling and glamorous," said Armando, with dry sarcasm. "Well, if they were in our shoes, those people would certainly be singing a different tune."

"We may seem a pathetic lot," Gahiji put in, "but we're there for each other, and we got each other's backs, as they put it."

"We're here for you, Pinocchio," Arietta promised, as she continued to cradle Pinocchio against her breast and smooth his hair, in a remarkably motherly fashion. "We'll always be there to look after you, to make sure no harm comes your way."

Pinocchio closed his eyes, remembering how Terence had made that very same promise. And what good had come of it? What good had come to Terence? It was all too much, and Pinocchio rested his forehead against Arietta's shoulder and burst into sobs for what must have been the thousandth time—he had broken down so much within the past week alone that he had lost count. Though Arietta rocked him back and forth like a baby and crooned sweet words to him, and Armando offered his special polka-dotted handkerchief, he did not stop. The puppet only wordlessly accepted the handkerchief from the clown and used it to mop up his tears, wringing out the cloth every now and then when it was too wet to be of any more use.

As Arietta and her companions waited patiently for the boy to recover himself, an unpleasant voice cut into the scene, making them all jump: "What is going on in here?"

Except for Pinocchio, everyone looked simultaneously toward the tent entrance to find, to their dismay and discontent, none other than Fabrizio himself standing there.

"It's the Master!" Gahiji whispered to the others, from the furthermost corner of his mouth.

"Oh, no," Armando groaned under his breath, closing his eyes and hiding his face briefly in one gloved hand.

Without even waiting for anybody to say a word, Fabrizio strode into the tent himself, taking unusually large steps, as he often did when he was displeased. Arietta remained sitting as their master approached them, but Armando straightened up almost at once and backed a few steps. "What is the meaning of this?" Fabrizio demanded, coming to a stop. "What are you all doing in here? Rehearsals have begun ten minutes ago!" Then his eyes fell upon Pinocchio, who only went on sobbing and sniffling.

Pinocchio didn't see the man, as his face was buried in the handkerchief Armando had given to him.

Fabrizio had never been fond of children, especially the ones who wailed and whined, and made a big fuss. "Cease this infernal crying at once!" he snapped at Pinocchio, and the harshness of his tone gave Pinocchio quite a start. With a gasp, Pinocchio jerked almost automatically to an upright position, his streaming blue eyes the size of saucers.

"Suck it in, you little half-pint," Fabrizio ordered him, not the least bit moved by the boy's tears, or the anguish reflected in his young face.

Pinocchio sniffled and tried to swallow his sobs as best he could, though the task was about as easy as trying to swallow a rock whole.

Everyone else glowered at Fabrizio. "Oh, come on, Fabrizio," argued Bernardo, "can't you give the kid a break?"

"Isn't it enough that you have taken what little this child has, that you are keeping him here against his will, that you have all but destroyed his spirit?" demanded Fergal.

"Can't you show at least a little compassion?" Arietta added indignantly.

"No," Fabrizio answered coldly, keeping an absolutely straight face. "Once people think you're soft, they walk all over you. Furthermore, we have a business to maintain around here, in case it has already slipped from the minds of you lot of louts. And I, as the head of this business, refuse to have everything else fall out of whack because of some kid's constant bawling and blubbering." With his eyes mainly upon Pinocchio, the pale-faced, stonehearted man directed the whole group to the exit. "Now, get out there and get going, and no more of this nonsense."

Had he dared, Fergal would have strangled the man on the spot with his bare hands, and Arietta was sorely tempted to give Fabrizio a good, fierce smack across the face. Gahiji's fingers literally twitched with the urge to close them around Fabrizio's pencil-thin neck. As for Armando and Bernardo, it was difficult to say which of the two clowns looked the most vindictive.

As broken and torn up as Pinocchio was inside, the little lad was much too afraid of Fabrizio to so much as consider disobeying him. Therefore, he never made a single fuss as he was led away to take his part in the routine. Before he knew it, Pinocchio found himself garbed in his very own costume: a loose-fitting, multicolored jumpsuit, with voluminous leggings, and a row of fluffy orange pompoms that went down his front in a perfectly straight line. A flared bowtie was secured to his neck, and a matching cap topped with one final orange pompom crowned his head. As for his face, a giant red dot was painted on either of his cheeks, and an artificial cherry-red nose was fixed over his own lengthy nose.

Pinocchio once caught a brief glimpse of himself in one of the special mirrors used in the circus.

He hardly even recognized the little wooden face staring back at him…and all the cheer-inspiring colors and designs that garnished him were a blatant contrast to the burning, gaping black hole in his heart. Pinocchio would have broken down in tears there and then. And though he exerted his most fervent efforts to suppress his sobs, to keep it all inside lest Fabrizio catch him, he could not stop at least one lonely tear from spilling from his eye and falling to the ground, like a sad, lonely raindrop.

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	17. Chapter 17: Terence's Determination

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_This next chapter is quite quick, but I promise it's really good! This is where we see what Terence ultimately decides to do. You really have to hand it to that guy. He is my hero. _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

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**

**Chapter 17: Terence's Determination**

"It's hopeless, Terence. We'll never find him."

"No, Jiminy," said Terence, speaking very firmly. "I will _not_ give up on Pinocchio!"

The young white-haired man was restlessly pacing the floor in his old room at the Red Mount Inn, where he had been staying ever since Pinocchio was taken from him.

The first night that Pinocchio disappeared, after Terence and Jiminy failed to find him save for his cap, Terence had lain awake in his bed, with that little cap clutched protectively to his heart, and wept for hours on end. For two long days, and two endless nights, he could neither eat nor sleep, and spent most of his time moping about his room. Now, though Terence still despaired over the loss of Pinocchio, though he still blamed himself for the puppet's kidnapping, heated determination mingled with his agonizing sorrow.

Fabrizio was not going to get away with this—not if Terence could help it!

Terence swore that he would find those circus people, wherever they were, and save Pinocchio, if it was the last thing he ever did. He didn't care what it took. If it cost him every last penny he had in his pocket, or the clothes on his back, or everything else he owned in the world, even if he had to sell his soul to the devil himself, he was going to get Pinocchio back.

Fabrizio could do whatever he would with Terence, but he was _not_ taking Pinocchio.

Terence stopped his pacing and leaned against the nearest wall for a minute, his arm raised, his forehead pressed abjectly to his wrist. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling how he promised Pinocchio he would never let anything happen to him. While he knew he had failed the puppet grievously in that aspect, he also knew he couldn't just sit around and do nothing while his little wooden friend remained Fabrizio's prisoner. As Pinocchio's guardian, it was the youth's solemn responsibility to look out for the boy, to protect him, to help him in times of trouble…and this was one of those times. Terence also thought of Geppetto. Even though he had never personally known the man, he knew he couldn't let him down by letting his son down.

There was nothing Terence could do for the poor old man; but what he could do for the man's son, he would.

Jiminy admired Terence for his strength and courage, and the cricket didn't want to appear a killjoy.

But he frankly couldn't see how they could possibly find Pinocchio, or how they would possibly be able to help the boy if they ever did.

He didn't see where they would even begin.

"I care for Pinoke as much as you do, Terence," he said out loud, from where he perched on the bedpost, "and I'm as worried sick about him as you are, if not more. But what can we do? Where do we start? For all we know, he and that circus could be halfway around the world by now. Even if we succeeded in tracking them down, what are we to do then? How would we bust Pinoke out of there? There's only the two of us, after all, and Fabrizio has a whole gang of hoodlums at his heels. You know what took place that day in the alley."

The cricket's tiny face paled as he continued, "Those people tried to_ kill_ you, Terence. If they catch you again, you're as good as dead."

"I'm not the one who matters in this, Jiminy," said Terence, as he looked up and faced his companion directly, with an expression of absolute, unwavering resolution. "I don't know what I will do…but I got Pinocchio into this mess. One way or another, I'm getting him out of it."


	18. Chapter 18: The Final Straw

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Here it is, the latest installment of my little Pinocchio classic! Well, I don't know about a classic, exactly, but it's undoubtedly become one of my more popular stories, and it only continues to climb the charts. I'm amazed by its popularity. Sure, I expected it to be noticed, but not this well-liked! It's a good thing, though; it comes as a pleasant surprise. _

_Gee, the suspense is mounting! I'm sure it's killing some of you out there. (Not literally, I hope.) Well, hang in there, we'll get to the end one day or another! _

_I'll try my best to not keep you waiting too long, and I'll try to not let you down. Happy reading!_

**

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Chapter 18: The Final Straw**

"No, no, no, _no!_" Fabrizio shouted, shaking his head in disgust. "What was _that? _That was absolutely pathetic! What is the matter with you, Pinocchio? Can't you do anything right?"

Pinocchio's face was as red as his bulbous clown nose, and the poor puppet ducked his head in chagrin and embarrassment.

He was in the middle of yet another rehearsal, with Armando and Bernardo, but the boy's heart simply wasn't into the routine. Therefore, he kept tripping up, and his performance was nothing short of miserable. Fabrizio yelling at him and putting him down was certainly not helping.

When Pinocchio had met Stromboli, he never imagined he would meet a man that was more terrible—but Fabrizio definitely took the cake. Fabrizio made Stromboli look like a gentleman.

Dino, Vitale, Gianni, and Paolo were no friendlier than their master (Paolo, for one, had always been in a particularly sour mood, ever since Terence punched his lights out in the alley and left him with an ugly bruise that covered nearly half his face), and the rest of the circus either pointedly ignored Pinocchio, or addressed him in a cool, standoffish manner. Lady Arietta, Fergal, Armando, Bernardo, and Gahiji were the only real friends Pinocchio had in this gloomy place. Were it not for them and their kindness, Pinocchio wasn't sure how he would survive.

Armando and Bernardo often performed little tricks to try to get Pinocchio to smile, such as making a ball disappear and then reappear again from seemingly thin air, or making miniature figures out of long balloons. While they were lucky to get so much as a chuckle out of Pinocchio, Pinocchio did have to appreciate the gestures. Arietta was always there to hug Pinocchio and comfort him when he was feeling particularly sad or lonely, or both. And Fergal and Gahiji would secretly sneak the puppet bits of food when Fabrizio purposely withheld food from him; oftentimes, they ended up surrendering their own meals just so Pinocchio wouldn't spend the night being hungry.

At first, Pinocchio was wary of Fergal, on account of his size and the darkness of his skin, and the fact that he specialized in living fire. But in time, he got used to the man, and even once found the courage to thank him outright when Fergal brought him a loaf of bread and a block of brittle cheese that was to be intended for his own supper.

Bernardo and Armando sensed Pinocchio's humiliation when their master told him off, and Bernardo said defensively, "Give the kid some credit, Fabrizio!"

"He is doing the best he can," Armando added. "Why, I'd say he's done much better this week than only the week before!"

"I have yet to see the improvement," Fabrizio snapped. His fault-finding gaze fell upon Pinocchio yet again. "Our latest show is only just around the corner, kid, and you had better get your act together! I will not have my show be a disaster, because of you! Now, we're going to do this again, and again, and _again_, until we get it right! Understand?"

Pinocchio just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

His eyes burned and stung, and he prayed he wouldn't start crying and get himself into further trouble. His throat ached with the weight of his unshed tears.

He wished Terence were there to take him in his arms, and comfort him. He wished he were home again, with his father. How long ago it seemed since he had been Geppetto's "little woodenhead", heading off to school, with many bright and happy prospects lying ahead. He wondered whether he would ever be truly cheerful again.

The rest of the rehearsal dragged on, and Armando and Bernardo's only satisfaction came from Pinocchio inadvertently ducking down when Bernardo produced a cream pie and hurled it at him, so that the pie ended up flying into Fabrizio's face instead. Arietta, Fergal, and Gahiji saw this, and the sight made them all crack up.

Even Armando and Bernardo had to laugh outright at the sight, along with a few others who stood by, though Pinocchio was far more dismayed than amused.

When Fabrizio extracted the pie dish and threw it away, the look on his cream-masked face did not show the least degree of pleasure, or amusement.

There was a sudden hush at the glare of vindictiveness in his eyes.

"Just for that, you pinewood reprobate," Fabrizio told Pinocchio malignantly, as the white filling oozed down his face and dropped off his chin in thick chunks, "consider your time of work doubled, and you will not have any meals for a week. And one more stunt like this, and I swear I'll make you regret the day you were ever born, boy."

"That's not fair, Fabrizio!" Arietta blurted out furiously.

"This isn't Pinocchio's fault!" Armando exclaimed.

But Fabrizio would not be swayed. "Shut up," he ordered his employees, as he turned away to get himself cleaned up, "and get back to work, the lot of you."

"Fabrizio—" Bernardo began.

"I said, shut it!" said Fabrizio in a loud voice that made Pinocchio cower, and even Fergal take a tentative step back. "Or I'll throw the rest of you out! Try me, and see if I don't!"

With that, he stormed off.

That proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

By that time, Arietta, Fergal, Gahiji, and the clowns decided they'd had more than enough.

"That scoundrel!" Armando fumed that night, when the group was alone together, after Pinocchio had drifted off into a miserable, hungry sleep. "It's bad enough that he abuses the rest of us—but to abuse a poor, helpless, homeless little orphan like Pinocchio? I can't believe this! I just don't _believe_ it!"

"The boy already works too hard for one of his age," said Gahiji grimly. "How can the Master possibly expect him to work twice that amount?"

"I thought Fabrizio couldn't get any worse when he first took Pinocchio," said Arietta, her eyes glistening, her voice shaking with pent-up rage and passion, "but he has proven me wrong!"

"I don't know about the rest of you," said Armando, "but I can't take this anymore! Fabrizio has gone too far!"

"I'm with you, Armando," Bernardo chimed in. "I'm getting Pinocchio out of here!"

"We're _all _getting Pinocchio out of here," said Fergal. "We're in this together."

"But how are we going to do that?" Gahiji could not help asking. "You know how Pinocchio is always being watched. And you know full well what Fabrizio would do to us."

"Anywhere is better than here," Fergal answered stonily. "If I must go back to the sugar plantations, and be a slave the rest of my life, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear."

Everyone else agreed vigorously. They no longer cared about their previous lives, or what would happen to them in the future; it didn't matter anymore. The one and only thing that truly mattered was finding some way to get Pinocchio out of Fabrizio's iron clutches, and setting the puppet free. They could never live with themselves otherwise.

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**


	19. Chapter 19: Now or Never

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Hello, again! Got a fresh new chapter for you to sink your teeth into! Is your adrenaline pumping yet? Is your heart already ready to give out from the anticipation? Well, you ain't seen nothing yet! _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

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**

**Chapter 19: Now or Never**

"Hey, Terence, look at this!" Terence, who had been sitting in silence on the edge of the curb for the last twenty minutes with his head buried in his hands, feeling morose and thoroughly disheartened about Pinocchio, opened his eyes and lifted his face when he heard Jiminy cry out to him unexpectedly.

He looked over to one side, and saw that the cricket stood a short distance from him, in front of a large, colorful poster mounted on a wall.

"What is it, Jiminy?" Immediately Terence stood and went to join his companion. When he saw the poster himself, something made him pause and stare.

It was an advertisement for an upcoming circus. And not just any circus, but the Fabrizio Expo itself. According to the flyer, there was a big show scheduled for that very night, and it would be the last show the circus would be presenting before leaving town altogether. As always, the poster was graced with eye-catching illustrations, including a picture of a small clown puppet that looked very much like Pinocchio. Then, looking more closely, with a thrill of shock, indignation, ecstasy, and pure disbelief, Terence realized that clown _was _Pinocchio!

It even said in the ad that the main act would be a clown marionette that could "_sing and dance, play and prance, and many other dazzling things, without the need for strings_". There was no other puppet in all the world Terence or Jiminy knew of that could do all those things, liberally. Besides, Terence would know those blue eyes of that clown anywhere.

If there was any solid, foolproof evidence that Fabrizio was the wanted man, this was it.

Ironically, Pinocchio was portrayed as being cheery and upbeat; his illustrated figure wore a broad smile that almost didn't suit him. Despite himself, Terence couldn't resist reaching out and touching Pinocchio's face, tracing the boy's features with the tips of his fingers. "Pinocchio," he said softly, feeling joy and sorrow, anger and despair, fear and hope, all at the same time.

"How about that?" Jiminy declared. "It's the star life for Pinoke, all over again."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," said Terence, now curling his hand into a solid fist and beating it determinedly against the wall.

"Fabrizio must really assume you're a goner, Terence," mused Jiminy, "or he wouldn't put something like this on such clear display."

"Either that, or he assumes I'll never be able to get through to Pinocchio," Terence replied. "Whatever he assumes, I'll show him!"

"What will you do, Terence? Should we report this to the authorities?"

"The authorities were of no help," said Terence sardonically, recalling his rather unpleasant meeting with the town magistrates earlier that same day. He had gone to appeal to them, only to get thrown back onto the pavement later. "They didn't believe me when I told them I suspected Fabrizio of potential kidnapping. They thought I was out of my mind, especially when they learned that Pinocchio was not even my real son, and that he was just a wooden puppet rather than a real boy. And when they learned I wasn't even a citizen of this village, they told me I had no business in meddling with the town's affairs. That's when they threw me out." He shook his head. "No, Jiminy…this is a matter I must take into my own hands. Tonight, you and I are going to that show, and we're breaking Pinocchio out. It's the only chance we have—and the only chance Pinocchio has to escape. It's now, or never."

"Gee, I sure hope Pinoke is all right," said Jiminy solicitously, taking one last lingering look at the poster.

Terence nodded in solemn agreement. "So do I, Jiminy."

The young man added contritely, "And I also hope Pinocchio can forgive me, for all the trouble I've caused him." He bowed his head, causing his thick white bangs to spill over his eyes as he did so. "After all I put him through, I would be amazed if he still wanted to be with me, if he still considered me a friend…let alone a father."

"It's not your fault, Terence," Jiminy insisted. "It's not your fault Pinoke's in this sticky situation."

"Yes, it is," Terence contradicted. "I was Pinocchio's guardian. I should have watched the boy more carefully. I should have been more responsible for him. I even promised him I'd never let anything happen to him. Now, look where he's ended up." With a deep, grievous sigh, the young man closed his eyes, and abjectly hid his face in a single hand.

"Well, that's a funny thing to promise," said Jiminy, after a minute of silence.

Hearing this, Terence slowly dragged his hand to his unshaven chin, and looked down at the cricket in bewilderment. "What?"

"Well, obviously, you can't forbid anything from ever happening to him," said Jiminy, with a hint of dry wit. "Then _nothing_ would ever happen to him. You know what I'm saying here?"

His countenance grew genuinely solemn. "I was every bit as responsible for Pinoke as you were, Terence, if not more so. But that didn't stop bad things from coming about the boy. It didn't stop Geppetto from dying, and it didn't stop Stromboli, or Fabrizio. It all just…happened."

Terence looked away as he mulled over what Jiminy was saying. He recalled telling Pinocchio the very same thing, not so long ago, when Pinocchio blamed himself for his father's death. He'd told the boy that he wasn't to blame, that there was no way of truly knowing what would have happened, or what could have happened.

It was merely one of those unforeseen twists of fate, and no one could have controlled that fate more than they could control the sea, or the rising and setting of the sun.

Still, despite that grave truth, Terence couldn't help feeling a sense of culpability for what had come about Pinocchio.

A part of the young man yet insisted that he ought to have done more for Pinocchio's welfare, though Terence didn't know what more he _could_ have done.

"This isn't the end, Terence," said Jiminy, now speaking with surprising intensity, a look of fierce resolve on his small face. "We're getting Pinocchio back, one way or another, as you have said. Fabrizio may have won the battle—but the war is not over yet!"

"You are right, Jiminy," Terence said, drawing renewed strength from the cricket's words. Holding his head up a little higher, the youth continued stanchly, "Let Fabrizio and his gang of goons do what they will with me, but I'm not giving up without a fight. I would gladly die before I'd leave Pinocchio to someone like that cruel man."

Jiminy nodded vigorously. "Now you're talking, Terence! Spoken like a true friend, a true father, and a true man!"


	20. Chapter 20: Playing the Fool

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Presenting another fresh chapter, for you to feast your eyes on! And today is my birthday (I turn 21, in case you're curious, so this means I'm street legal), so this marks my first published piece at my new age! This story's really getting thrilling, isn't it? I'm getting even myself worked up! Every chapter, the suspense just continues to deepen. _

_After this, we only have a couple more chapters to go, and that'll be the end of it! Or maybe not—I've been considering possibly writing some sort of sequel to this. What do you think? _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**

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**

**Chapter 20: Playing the Fool**

That very evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, Terence and Jiminy managed to make their way successfully to the area where the show was said to be held.

The location for the groundwork had obviously changed since last time, but Terence and Jiminy both knew instantly when they arrived that this was the place. Not surprisingly, the grounds swarmed with people—those who came to be entertained, and those who lived to entertain. Lively carousel music was playing somewhere, and a voice could just barely be heard announcing the grand event, shouting for the crowd to "step right up" and "hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry". Everyone was laughing and talking at once, and it was essentially impossible for the little children to keep still. The enticing aromas of buttered popcorn and roasting sausage laced the air. Overall, everything appeared overwhelmingly bright, gay, colorful, and upbeat.

Terence took care to hide himself behind one of the big wooden crates, where no one else would see him.

As he secretly watched the crowd, and the animated environment that surrounded them, he could only sigh and shake his head.

How could someone as cruel and callous as Fabrizio put on such a spectacular show? And how was it that so many people could love the man, actually be amused by him? If they knew the truth about Fabrizio, how would they feel toward him and his company then? On top of all else, Terence wondered how Pinocchio could have made it through all this.

Just the mere thought of the puppet was enough to bring a sharp sting of tears to Terence's eyes, and a painful lump to his throat.

It had been so long since he last had Pinocchio with him…far too long. He would do anything to get the boy back, undergo anything to ensure the child's safety.

_I will come for you, Pinocchio, _he said in his mind, hoping against hope that Pinocchio could hear his thoughts, or at least sense what he was thinking. _I swear, I will come! _

Jiminy, who roosted on Terence's shoulder as always, asked the young man, "Terence, how will you get in there and retrieve Pinoke, without getting yourself caught?"

"I'll go in disguise," Terence answered. "No one will know who I am. I'll go along with the gig, and when the time is right, I'll make my fast escape, and I'm taking Pinocchio with me."

"You will need a very good disguise, then, if you're going to pull the wool over Fabrizio's eyes," an unfamiliar voice broke in suddenly.

With a start, Terence whirled around to discover five people from the circus standing right there, watching him shrewdly.

One was a young girl in a sleeveless white dress, with pale blue eyes, and soft, butter-yellow hair that was pulled back and twisted into a tight bun. Another was a gangly, long-limbed man with sea-gray eyes, a vibrant tan, and a hint of a beard on his chin. Another man stood very tall (he was undoubtedly the tallest of the bunch) and completely clean-shaven, with muscles that bulged out like balls, and skin as brown as chocolate. The remaining two in the group were a pair of almost identical clowns, save for a few differences in their costumes and makeup.

Terence remembered seeing them before, and he braced himself, ready to fight if need be.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded sharply.

"That's a question anyone else ought to ask _you_, young man," answered Bernardo, arching one eyebrow meaningfully at him.

"I swear to you," Terence said vindictively, shifting his position and balling his hands into rock-solid fists, "if any one of you lay so much as a finger on me—"

But they only smiled at him, and Armando said with a hearty chuckle, "Relax, sir; we're on your side!"

This caught Terence completely off-guard, and even Jiminy was knocked for a loop. "On _my_ side?" Terence repeated incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

"We know you are here to help Pinocchio escape," said Fergal matter-of-factly.

Bernardo added on, "But you're going to need our help."

Terence eyed the group skeptically, unsure of whether or not these people could truly be trusted. "And," the white-haired youth said slowly, "why would you be so willing to help?"

"I think we have grown as fond of that child as you have, my good man," Gahiji said, still smiling.

"And we have suffered under Fabrizio's heel for far too long," said Arietta, with evident venom. "Now is our chance to get back at him, and make him pay for how he has mistreated all of us."

"How is Pinocchio?" Terence asked anxiously. "Is he all right? Is he safe?"

Everyone's faces fell at that, and Armando sighed heavily and hid his eyes briefly in his hand. "Physically speaking, sir, he isn't doing too poorly," the clown murmured. "A little undernourished and overworked, maybe, not getting nearly as enough sleep as he ought to; but nothing too terrible. But emotionally speaking, his sanity barely hangs on by a hair."

"Life around here has been hell for him," Fergal admitted, "as it has for all of us."

"Fabrizio's been simply awful to him," said Arietta, with a dismal shake of her head. "He forces the poor child to work day and night, and he only half-feeds him and is forever insulting him, criticizing everything he does and putting him down, making Pinocchio feel nothing short of worthless."

It nearly broke Terence's heart to hear this, while at the same time his blood simmered with rage. Jiminy felt the exact same way.

The cricket knew that fiendish Fabrizio could not be trusted, the moment he laid eyes on him. He just _knew_ it.

Now Terence was more determined than ever to bust Pinocchio out of there.

"If we're going to help Pinocchio escape, we must do it now," said Bernardo, "tonight."

"Won't you get in serious trouble with your master?" The question had escaped Terence's tongue before he even acknowledged it.

"Never mind Fabrizio," said Arietta doggedly. "We would much rather beg in the streets, or spend the rest of our lives in prison, than go on working for him."

"So," said Armando, extending a gloved hand toward Terence, "are we agreed?"

Seeing that the gesture was sincere, Terence readily reached out himself, and firmly grasped the clown's hand. "Agreed," he said.

"Good!" Armando beamed at him, as did Arietta and the other men.

Armando then summoned everyone to huddle closer together, before he devised a strategy.

"Now," said the clown, taking care to lower his voice, "here's what we're going to do. We have exactly one hour before the show begins." To Terence, he said, "As I have said before, if you want to get past Fabrizio, you will need a convincing costume. So, I suggest you participate in the clown routine; it's the best way to conceal yourself. Not only will you have a suit and everything, but your face will also be masked. If you have no objections to having your face painted, and dressing up in bizarre garments…"

Terence shook his head. "I have no objection, whatsoever. In fact, I couldn't think of a more brilliant masquerade myself!"

"Then it's settled," said Armando. "You'll be with Bernardo, and you'll work with him during the show. Pinocchio is listed to accompany us, but I would very, _very_ strongly recommend that you keep your identity hidden and keep quiet until the end of the gig. If you reveal yourself too soon, and Fabrizio sees you, you're dead meat. When the gig has ended, take Pinocchio and get out as fast as you can. Don't trouble yourself about the rest of us; just grab the boy and _run_."

"I hope the rest of you will be all right," said Terence, and he meant it.

"We'll take our chances," said Fergal.

"Sometimes," said Gahiji furtively, "to do the right thing, you must be willing to place yourself between the devil and the deep blue sea."

Terence wasn't exactly sure what that expression meant, but he made a slight nod of assent. "I must admit," the youth said meekly, "I have never been a clown before. What should I do?"

"It's easy!" Bernardo assured him. "All you have to do is follow my lead. Leave all of the major work to me, and just play along."

Reaching behind Terence's ear and plucking a shiny new penny from seemingly thin air, he added with a broad grin, "Trust me, I'm a real expert at this clown business."

Startled, Terence reached up and felt behind his ear, wondering how in the world Bernardo did that.

"This way," said Armando, now slipping an arm around Terence's shoulders and leading him away. "Come on!"

Terence followed him and the others to a private cubicle in a reserved tent, where the clowns always put on their costumes, and basically readied themselves for every show.

While Fergal and Gahiji kept watch for any unwelcome intruders, Armando helped Terence into his own clown attire, complete with the gloves and the boat-sized shoes, and even the little flower on his lapel that he used to squirt water. Terence felt a little awkward moving about in such enormous shoes, but after walking around a bit, he soon adjusted.

Bernardo then made Terence sit down on a low stool, while Jiminy leaped up onto the table to watch.

On that table were several containers of facial paint, in varying colors, along with just about every component necessary to become a clown.

First, after making sure that all of Terence's hair was swept back, Armando scooped up a handful of white paint, and instructed Terence, "Now, close your eyes, and hold still." Terence did so, and Armando proceeded to slather the cool paint on the young man's face. Using several good gobs, he rubbed the white substance all around, leaving no inch of Terence's face uncovered. He added an extra coat, just to be safe. When Terence's face was completely white, Bernardo took part in painting the different designs on him with the remaining colors in their collection.

Together, he and Armando gave Terence the very same designs that were painted on Armando's face: big blue diamonds over his eyes, large red dots on his cheeks, and an enormous red grin outlined in black pencil that covered his whole mouth and chin. Luckily for Terence, Armando sported a beard of his very own on his chin; all they really had to do was dye Terence's goatee bright green, though it took nearly two whole jars of green colorant to get it just right. Afterwards, an artificial red nose was fixed carefully over Terence's own nose.

As a final touch, Armando crowned Terence with his very own wig and cap.

When Terence was all set, he presented himself to Jiminy and asked, "What do you think?"

"Most impressive," Jiminy had to admit. "If I didn't know it was you, Terence, I'd swear you were someone else."

It pleased Terence immensely to hear that. If he could fool Jiminy with this disguise, he could surely swindle Fabrizio.

When the time arrived for everyone in the circus to take their place, Bernardo asked Terence with an imperial air, "Shall we?"

Terence smiled at his partner, and bowed elaborately at the waist. "Lead the way, fool."


	21. Chapter 21: Last Curtain Call

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_You will be happy to know that I've finally updated this thing again! It's taken me almost a month to figure it out, but I got it now! _

_We're almost to the end, people; after this, we only got about two more chapters! I'm so excited! This was my favorite chapter to write thus far. And after thinking it over, I have decided to do a sequel to this. I won't tell you about it, though, we still gotta get through this story first! One adventure at a time. _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**

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**

**Chapter 21: Last Curtain Call**

"It's just about that time, kid," Fabrizio announced to Pinocchio. Pinocchio, who sat on the edge of his cot in his full clown getup with his clown hat in his hands, peered up slowly at his master. Fabrizio, as always, was decked out in his long black tailcoat, milk-colored breeches, and knee-length boots, and his black top hat rested jauntily atop his head.

His eyes looked as dark and sinister as ever in the shadow of the brim.

Pinocchio said nothing—he always avoided speaking directly to Fabrizio, whenever it could be helped—but he hunkered down slightly, as a frightened dog hunkering before its imposing master.

"Don't give me that look," Fabrizio told him sharply.

He brandished the handle of his whip that he carried at the boy's face, and went on malevolently, "I didn't save you from homelessness and total starvation for this, Pinocchio. I didn't drag you all over town, and have you go through all those exercises, for nothing. I brought you into my circus so that you could work, and work is exactly what you are going to do. You will go out there and put on a big smile for everyone, and you will give them what they want. If you don't, so help me, boy, there will be the devil to pay. Is that understood?"

When Pinocchio still wouldn't say anything, Fabrizio shot forth a white-gloved hand and snatched him by the front of his costume, jerking Pinocchio closer to him.

"Answer me, you dressmaker's dummy!" he said nastily. "_Is that understood?_"

"Y-yes, sir," Pinocchio finally stammered, his own voice small and tremulous.

"Good," said Fabrizio bluntly, and he let the puppet go with a shove. "See to it that it is. Now, go take your position with the other clowns."

Pinocchio obediently leaped to his feet, setting his hat carefully in place as he did so, and Fabrizio followed him out of the small tent, toward the big pavilion.

Inside the pavilion, Terence stood behind one of the massive flaps with Bernardo, secretly watching the audience that had gathered that night.

It was quite a crowd—clearly as big as the crowd on the night Terence and Pinocchio first attended the Fabrizio Expo, if not bigger.

Jiminy, for once, was not with Terence at that time; the cricket had already gone off somewhere to hide. He and Terence had agreed to meet up with each other later.

"You all right?" Bernardo whispered to Terence, at length.

Terence merely nodded. In truth, the young man was quivering with fear, and anticipation.

He was so close to getting Pinocchio back; he just hoped this rescue plan would work, that Bernardo and his other accomplices knew what they were doing.

He heard something behind him, and he and Bernardo looked simultaneously over their shoulders to see a small clown come in, with Fabrizio close behind. Terence's heart leaped upon realizing it was Pinocchio! He nearly cried out to the boy on the spot, but luckily he caught himself just in time, remembering Armando's warning about revealing himself too soon.

If Pinocchio knew him right then, Fabrizio would know, too.

Pinocchio hesitated for just a moment, caught by an overwhelming memory of how he was once here before, with Terence and Jiminy.

No matter how much the little lad tried, he just couldn't get Terence out of his mind. Remembering Terence, and how kind and gentle he had been to Pinocchio from the moment they met, pierced the puppet's heart with acute longing. Even though he knew Terence was gone, just like Geppetto, he still wished the white-haired youth were there.

He wished he could see Terence again, one more time, if only for a minute.

_Oh, Terence,_ Pinocchio inwardly bemoaned, _I need you._

"What are you waiting for?" Fabrizio demanded. "Don't just stand there! Get moving!" And he gave Pinocchio a heartless kick with his boot, very nearly knocking the poor boy flat on his face.

Terence's insides seared with white-hot fury at the sight. He wanted to fly out at Fabrizio on the spot and break his face, and he actually began to lunge at the man, but Bernardo restrained him. "No!" Bernardo whispered fiercely to the youth, as he held him back. "Let it be, Terence; it's not worth the fight!"

"That vile, disgusting, two-faced son of a jackal!" Terence swore, struggling to free himself. "I'll break his skinny neck—"

"_No!_" Bernardo repeated, and he gave an especial hard jerk on his companion's arm. Leaning in toward Terence, he spoke urgently into the youth's ear, "One wrong move on your part, Terence, and everything is ruined! Do you want to get Pinocchio out of here, or not?" It took a minute to calm Terence down, but even after Terence ceased to fight against Bernardo and stood still, he continued to flex his fingers every now and again, itching to place them around Fabrizio's throat.

When Pinocchio was joined with them, Bernardo did crouch down to ask him, "Are you all right, Pinocchio?"

"I'm fine," said Pinocchio softly.

Fabrizio, meanwhile, looked at Terence, and for a heartstopping moment, Terence feared the man would see through his disguise.

He stared long and hard back at Fabrizio, determined to not blink too much. For good measure, he maintained hold of his tongue and kept silent.

"What's the matter with you, Armando?" Fabrizio inquired at length. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Oh, he's got laryngitis, sir," Bernardo hastily invented. "I'm afraid he can't talk. "

Terence nodded in agreement, and even raised a ginger hand to his throat.

"That's queer," Fabrizio said, keeping his hawk eye on Terence, with hardly a change of expression. "He talked just fine this morning."

"It's developed just now, sir, and I am afraid it's quite a nasty case indeed."

Terence nodded again. He pressed a fist to his lips and coughed quietly a few times, hoping Fabrizio would buy it.

"Well, whatever you've got, Armando, it doesn't change a thing," said Fabrizio coldly. "You're still going out there, and you're doing exactly what you're supposed to do."

Almost as an afterthought, he added on, "Luckily for you, and for the rest of us, your act does not require you to speak."

Terence nodded a third time, and mouthed the words "_yes sir_" to him.

Fabrizio gazed into the silent clown's painted face one minute more; then, to everyone's relief, he marched briskly past them and went on his own way, without another word.

When Terence was sure he was out of earshot, he whispered fervently to Bernardo, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Bernardo whispered back.

* * *

The show had now begun. The performance this evening was just as spectacular and eye-popping as the one Terence and Pinocchio had attended, if not more so.

Everyone was fantastic with their assigned acts, but of course it was Pinocchio the crowds were most anxious to see. When the time came for the clowns to be on, Terence felt a little apprehensive about being in front of all those people. But Bernardo just reminded the young man to go along with him, and the clown added with a broad, almost pretentious grin, "Above all else, maintain a big smile—like you actually mean it!" Terence just smiled weakly, and adjusted his cap and wig a bit before following Bernardo out into the ring.

Inside the ring, while Fabrizio introduced them, Terence felt unusually warm under his costume, the heated glare of the spotlight, and the watchful stares of the audience around him.

He prayed he wouldn't start to perspire, and ruin his makeup. The last thing he needed was to dissolve into a puddle in front of everybody.

Though Pinocchio was wildly applauded and cheered for, the boy only felt like he was going to be sick on the spot.

Fabrizio shot the puppet one final murderous glare, before stepping aside and leaving the clowns to their work.

For the next solid hour or so, the clowns carried out their humorous, laugh-inducing jaunts, with Terence struggling to keep up with the antics.

Terence felt he wasn't really contributing much, but the audience appeared to love them anyway. Bernardo did his job amazingly well, with making brazenly colored scarves appear and disappear at random, juggling raw, unboiled eggs, producing a full bottle of soda from his pants, and everything. He and Terence were an especial riot with the banana-in-your-shoe routine, and with Bernardo pouring milk into his hat and secretly swapping Terence's hat for it. And practically everyone was in stitches when Bernardo attempted to sneak up on Terence from behind with an enormous cream pie in his hand. When he tapped Terence on the shoulder to get his attention, while the audience screamed out warnings to Terence, Terence turned around—only to bring up his own pie to meet Bernardo squarely in the face. That was when the whole pavilion exploded.

Terence felt like he was making a complete fool of himself, but he decided that was the whole point.

Pinocchio, needless to say, was the biggest hit of them all. Everybody adored the little clown marionette, who was forced to sing silly songs, dance a ridiculous dance for them, and take part in Terence and Bernardo's frolics. Terence had to admit to himself, the puppet wasn't a bad actor.

At the very end of the gig, when all of the people were clapping and screaming and stamping their feet in approval, Bernardo then turned to Terence, and silently mouthed the word "_now_" to him and fervently motioned for him to run for it. Terence understood the signal, and did not hesitate to scoop Pinocchio up, taking the boy by complete surprise.

With the puppet cradled gently in his arms, the young man turned and was gone like a streak of lightning.

"Hey!" Pinocchio protested, as Terence whisked him from the arena.

Fabrizio, who had been standing by, saw what was happening, and immediately became suspicious. What was going on here, he wondered? There was something screwy about that clown…

"Hey!" Pinocchio said again, when Terence had taken him all the way to the very back of the pavilion, where no one else could see them. "Put me down!"

Terence stopped, once he was certain he wasn't being followed, and he set the puppet down carefully on his own feet.

"Armando, what are you doing?" Pinocchio asked bewilderedly. "What is going on?"

"Pinocchio, it's me," said Terence, and to make himself at least somewhat recognizable, he removed his hat and false wig, so that his own silvery locks came spilling down into his face.

Pinocchio froze, not daring to believe it. He thought for a split moment that he was seeing what he wished he could see, that he was hearing what he wished he could hear.

It couldn't be…it wasn't possible…was it?

"Terence?" the boy said, his voice barely audible, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

"Yes, Pinocchio," said Terence, smiling down at him. "I'm here."

Pinocchio continued to stand and gawk, still thinking inwardly that this was all a mere hallucination. But when it at last dawned on him that this was no hallucination, no dream, no figment of his imagination, that Terence really stood before him, and that he was alive and well, his whole composure fell to pieces. With a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, the clown puppet hurled himself at Terence with full force and hugged the young man's sturdy legs, just as hard as he could squeeze, very nearly causing Terence to lose his balance.

He felt Terence's warm, familiar arms wrap unhesitatingly about him, and he felt Terence get down to his knees, so that they were at a more equal level.

The puppet promptly adjusted his grip, so that his scrawny arms now encompassed Terence's shoulders, and he buried his face in Terence's neck and burst into tears. Tears streamed down Terence's face as well as he returned Pinocchio's hug with all his heart. He knew the tears were causing his clown makeup to run, but he didn't care.

"_Pinocchio!_" he sobbed gratefully. "Oh, Pinocchio, my boy—oh, I'm so happy to see you!"

"Oh, Terence!" Pinocchio wailed at the same time, his voice garbled by tears and his face's contact with the young man's neck. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I have found you at last!" Terence wept. "Thank God, you're all right!"

"I missed you so much!" Pinocchio knew he should stop crying, but he couldn't; feeling Terence holding him was just too wonderful for words.

He could feel that tremendous weight he had come to accept lift from his heart, and he was just so happy, so thankful to have Terence back, all he could do was bawl.

"Pinocchio!" a small voice called, and Pinocchio lifted his head in time to see none other than Jiminy Cricket spring over to them, looking positively delighted to see him.

"Jiminy!" Pinocchio cried elatedly. "Oh, Jiminy! You're here, too!"

Suddenly the whole world seemed right again, and the puppet found he no longer felt lonely, or afraid.

"Pinocchio!" said Jiminy, taking one great, ecstatic leap onto the boy's shoulder. "It really _is _you! I don't believe it!"

"Are you all right?" Terence asked Pinocchio solicitously, taking the boy's chin gently in his hands. "I've been worried about you. Jiminy and I have looked everywhere for you."

"We have spent weeks searching every nook and cranny of the entire town," Jiminy said.

Pinocchio stared at them both, especially at Terence. "You mean, you have been looking for me, all this time?" the boy asked. "And you came all the way here, just to help me?"

If the little marionette was astounded before, he was totally and utterly knocked for six.

If this wasn't a sign that Terence truly loved him, he didn't know what was.

"What else could we have done?" said Terence, looking and sounding close to tears again. "I couldn't leave you, Pinocchio…especially in a place like this. I could never have lived with myself." Fresh tears began to flow forth, and Terence's already streaming makeup turned all the worse, as he engulfed Pinocchio in yet another impassioned embrace.

"Oh, Pinocchio, forgive me for putting you through this," the white-haired youth pleaded. "Please, forgive me!"

"Oh, Terence," was all Pinocchio could bring himself to say, as he clung to him in return.

"Forgive me, Pinocchio…forgive me," Terence kept sobbing over and over. Neither he nor Pinocchio knew how long they remained in that spot, crying and fondling each other, and covering each other's faces with endless kisses and tears, but when they drew apart in the end, Terence besought the puppet one more time, "Can you forgive me, Pinocchio?"

"Sure, I forgive you, Terence," said Pinocchio, and he meant it. "I'm just glad you're_ here_."

He choked up as he added on, "Back at the alley…Fabrizio…I thought that you were…that you…"

He couldn't bring himself to say it, but Terence understood perfectly what the lad meant to say. "I'm all right, Pinocchio," he assured him. "It takes a lot more than _that_ to finish me off."

With one gloved hand, he stroked the child's cheek tenderly, lightly brushing away the new tears that had begun to fall. Pinocchio could only smile, the first time he had smiled in ages, unable to express his relief and gratitude at having Terence with him again. It was the next best thing to having his real father back.

"Come on, Pinocchio," Terence beckoned, now scooping the boy into his arms like an infant, and rising to his feet. "It's time to take you home."

But before he could get out of there and make his escape, an antagonistic voice from the shadows stopped him cold:

"Going somewhere?"


	22. Chapter 22: Fabrizio’s Final Act

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_Oh, man, I worked on this chapter non-stop for literally days, and I'm not talking just a few days here. This is where we come to the ultimate climax of the story. I will not say what happens, you will have to read for yourselves…but believe me when I say this is the absolute worst chapter I've ever written. No exaggeration. _

_Something extremely awful happens, but it is all part of the story, and I can only cover my head and hope you won't come after me with torches and pitchforks when you reach the end. _

**

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Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

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**

**Chapter 22: Fabrizio's Final Act**

To Terence, Pinocchio, and Jiminy's utmost dismay, who else stood there, watching them from the shadows, but Fabrizio himself? Vitale, Dino, Paolo, and Gianni flanked either side of their master. Paolo, whose face had nearly fully healed from the abuse it underwent with Terence, looked sickeningly triumphant. "What did I tell you?" the man boasted to everyone.

"I _knew_ there was something shifty about you," Fabrizio declared to Terence.

"Fabrizio!" Terence gasped, as he stood there on the spot and continued to support Pinocchio in his arms.

Pinocchio just locked his own arms tightly about the white-haired youth's neck and whimpered like a frightened kitten, while Jiminy looked on with horror, disbelief, and utmost revulsion.

Terence started swiftly for the nearest exit, but Vitale and Gianni were quicker. With only five handsprings, the two men stood solidly in front of the outlet, blocking Terence's way.

"Not so fast," said Fabrizio coolly as he stepped forward, taking leisurely, unhurried steps. "I believe you have something that belongs to me, young man."

Of course, Terence knew he was referring to Pinocchio, like the puppet was some piece of property, rather than a living child. "I _won't_ let you take him, Fabrizio!" he vowed, clutching Pinocchio all the more protectively to his heart. "You can do what you want with me—but lay so much as a finger on Pinocchio, and I'll tear you apart!"

Fabrizio let out a laugh at that: a cruel, high-pitched, mirthless laugh that made Pinocchio shiver, and caused even Jiminy's blood to run cold.

"Don't make me laugh, Terence," Fabrizio scoffed at the youth. "What chance could you possibly stand against _me?_"

"Want to bet?" a voice piped up from behind, and Fabrizio whirled around to see Armando there, his face still brilliantly painted even though he was no longer in costume.

Naturally, he was accompanied by Bernardo, along with Fergal and Gahiji. Even Arietta stood with them.

"Well, well, look who's here," said Fabrizio, with mock astonishment. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise?"

Arietta started briskly toward him, but Fergal got there first. Without hesitation, the big black-skinned man shot out a hand and seized Fabrizio by the front of his jacket, lifting him all the way off the ground, and he drove the fiendish man against a nearby crate with awesome force. Fabrizio gave an involuntary grunt as he was roughly slammed into the side of the crate.

"Let—them—go," Fergal demanded, placing stark emphasis on every syllable, his eyes burning deep into his master's.

"Infidel!" Fabrizio was nothing short of outraged at this display of insubordination. "How _dare_ you! You can find yourself packing your bags for a one-way trip to the Caribbean, for this!"

"I don't care," said Fergal brusquely, refusing to ease his grip. "I don't care if you send me to the ends of the earth, or even to the gallows."

"We are done with you, Fabrizio!" said Armando ascetically. "We are done with you _and_ your lousy circus, forever!"

"You idiots!" Fabrizio shouted at them, as he tried vainly to free himself from Fergal's iron hold. "Just what do you think you would be, without me?"

"We would be good, upright people, with clear consciences," Gahiji replied boldly. "That's what we'd be!"

"You have gone too far, Fabrizio," said Arietta. "These last ten years I spent in your employment have been nothing but hell and misery. But it's over, now. You'll never have claim on me again!"

"You were better off with me than you might have been otherwise, you stupid girl!" Fabrizio practically spat at her.

Now it was Arietta's turn to laugh, though her laugh didn't hold a drop of humor. "Do you truly expect me to believe that my life would have been better with _you_, Fabrizio?" she said incredulously. "I would rather have starved! Even prison sounds like an ideal place, compared to your circus!"

"Just because you're the head of this company, you think you can step all over the rest of us," Bernardo now cut in. "You think you own us, like jewels or trinkets. And you treat poor Pinocchio like he's some plaything, using him as a toy to put more filthy money into your filthy hands. For a time, we were foolish enough to go along with you, but we have had it. We quit, Fabrizio. We'll never work for you or your company again, and neither will Pinocchio."

"We don't care about ourselves," Gahiji said, "but Terence and the wooden boy go free!"

"Let us go, Fabrizio," said Terence resolutely, "and no one will get hurt around here."

A sort of inhuman fury seemed to take hold of Fabrizio. The man said nothing, but kicked out at Fergal and struck him in the lower gut—hard enough to make Fergal gasp, and loosen his hold on him. Arietta gasped herself at the sight, and everyone else winced, including Terence and Jiminy.

Fabrizio took advantage of the moment and wrenched himself completely free, and Fergal now bent over, his smooth brown face twisted in pain.

Before he could recover, before anyone else could lay hands upon Fabrizio, the circus master plunged a hand into his coat and whipped out his gun.

"Nobody move!" he commanded sharply, holding his weapon at arm's length and pointing it threateningly at them all, his finger poised on the trigger. "Any one of you touch me again, touch so much as the hem of my jacket or the brim of my hat, and I'll blast your brains out!" Everyone gasped, but did exactly as they were told, and no one moved a muscle.

If Pinocchio was scared before, the little lad was now truly terrified, and even Terence was genuinely afraid this time. Even Jiminy went completely pale, knowing Fabrizio wasn't joking.

"Sure, Terence," said Fabrizio, focusing his attention on the young man, and taking aim, "I'll be more than willing to let you go—in a pine box!"

There was a small, ominous _click_ as he loaded up his firearm, and Terence only barely managed to hurl himself and Pinocchio out of range in time as the first shot went off.

A deafening bang resounded like thunder, and that was when the spell of paralysis broke and all the others scattered, like a herd of terrified sheep scattering before a ravenous wolf. Even Gianni, Paolo, Vitale, and Dino bolted for it when Fabrizio fired a second time. Terence, who had tripped over his own clown shoes and lay facedown on the ground, with Pinocchio and Jiminy alongside him, hastily scrambled to his feet again when the second shot sounded, and he was more than sure he'd heard the whiz of the bullet itself.

He seized Pinocchio by the hand, and somehow managed to not completely yank the boy's arm off as he dashed away, with Jiminy springing along behind them.

"We gotta get out of here!" Jiminy cried, as he bounded ahead of his companions and took the lead. "Don't bother waiting up for me!"

Fabrizio fired a third time, then a fourth time, and then a fifth, just missing Terence and Pinocchio by an inch all three times.

Though they were unseen, the audience in the amphitheater screamed at the sound of the gunshots. Everyone knew right away that there was great danger within the pavilion.

The children began crying for their parents, and downright pandemonium raged as the people scurried frantically for the nearest exit.

The guards who stood watch were very nearly trampled flat in the riot.

Meanwhile, an outright fight had broken out between Fabrizio's employees.

Armando, Gahiji, Fergal, and Bernardo found themselves scuffling with Vitale, Gianni, Dino, and Paolo, along with a number of others from the circus who had entered the fray. "This one's for Pinocchio!" Armando declared, just before hurling a punch at Paolo's face and scoring a direct hit in the mouth, which cost several teeth and a mighty fine bruise to the knuckles.

Fergal, though he still smarted from the blow he had received from Fabrizio, was able to easily knock out anybody who came near him.

Gahiji, being a snake charmer, used his own enchantments to send his flock of snakes out after his opponents. Even though his snakes weren't the deadly type, and they really did nothing more than snap playfully, his opponents screamed like women at the sight of the sinuous creatures, and took off the other way within the blink of an eye.

Bernardo, being a clown, used his own clownish antics and dojiggers to his own advantage.

Even Arietta participated in the brawl. When Vitale cornered the girl at one point and roughly seized hold of her, she slapped his face with every ounce of strength she could muster, momentarily stunning him, and then she jolted the trapeze artist with her knee and made him double over.

Terence and Pinocchio only continued to run from Fabrizio, who was hot on their heels, trying desperately to evade the bullets as he shot at them repeatedly, like a madman.

Terence made Pinocchio go ahead of him, and he urged the boy to keep running.

"Don't look back, Pinocchio!" he shouted. "Just keep going! _Keep going!_"

They soon entered the central ring, where they had given their performance not even a half-hour ago. As Terence and Pinocchio continued to race for their lives, Fabrizio fired yet again. This time, the bullet struck Terence in the right shoulder—and though the wound wasn't fatal, it was definitely enough to make Terence cry out.

The white-haired youth immediately stumbled and fell, where he lay upon his left side, clutching his burning shoulder, gasping shallowly for breath.

"_Terence!_" Pinocchio screamed to high heaven when he looked back (despite Terence's command) and saw him, while Arietta, who was the only other witness to the whole thing, gasped and lifted her hands to her mouth in horror and disbelief. Pinocchio did an about-face and rushed back to Terence right away.

The puppet dropped to his knees in the sawdust at the young man's side, wailing with all his heart, "Oh, Terence! Terence!"

"I'm all right, Pinocchio," Terence said softly, though his face revealed he was in severe pain, and when he moved his hand away, Pinocchio could make out a hole in his costume. Already, there was blood flowing from the wound. There was blood on Terence's glove, too, and while there wasn't too much of it, the sight made the boy sick to his stomach.

Fabrizio, whose countenance did not display a particle of remorse for what he had just done, only fired again, clearly determined to finish Terence off once and for all. The shot undoubtedly would have been the end of Terence, had the youth not agilely rolled himself out of the way at the last second.

Ignoring the pain from his wound, paying no heed to the hot flow of blood, Terence got to his feet, hoisted Pinocchio up with his good arm, and took off once more.

Blinding fury seized hold of Arietta, and the girl impetuously ran and caught up with Fabrizio, grabbing him just as his finger was pinching the trigger for what must have been at least the twelfth time. Had she not intervened, Fabrizio would have succeeded in killing Terence completely. Fabrizio, not even noticing Arietta until she was upon him, ended up shooting one of the main floodlights instead, blasting the glass into bits. The shattered shards were sent flying in every imaginable direction.

As a result, half the arena was plunged into darkness, and Terence and Pinocchio were able to take some refuge in the shadows.

"Fabrizio, you _monster!_" Arietta shrieked, as she grappled furiously with her former master, fighting to get the gun away from him.

But Fabrizio, being taller and stronger than she was, despite his thinness, only knocked her away from him, so that she ended up on the ground in a doubled heap.

"Don't toy with me, you little brat!" Fabrizio shouted lividly at her. "Or, so help me, I'll kill you, as well!"

Terence, meanwhile, had made it to the other end of the stadium, and he hid himself and Pinocchio within a narrow alcove on one side, where they would not be seen.

He was setting Pinocchio gently on his feet just as Jiminy found them. "Terence, Pinoke—" the cricket started to exclaim, but Terence shushed him at once.

And for good reason, for Fabrizio's silhouette soon appeared—quite close by, in fact.

They could hear the faint crunch of the gravel beneath his boots, see the glint of his revolver as the man passed under a stray shaft of moonlight that filtered in overhead.

"I know you're around here," Fabrizio's ominous voice called to them. "Don't think you can hide from me!"

Pinocchio wanted to cry, yet the boy held in his tears, and put forth his most gallant effort to suppress his sobs that threatened to betray him. The pain in Terence's shoulder was excruciating; it was as if his whole arm were on fire. It was all Terence could do to keep totally silent as they hid from Fabrizio, to not groan or cry out, to inhibit his harsh breathing.

Yet the youth knew he had been lucky.

As much as his injury pained him, it was not to the point where he could no longer use his arm. He could still move it, though just the slightest movement was hardly anything less of agony. He was especially fortunate that he only hurt his shoulder. Had Fabrizio hit a more vital part of his body, he would be in far deeper trouble.

Pinocchio's heart was pounding so hard, he was sure Fabrizio could hear it. He huddled a little closer to Terence, for comfort as well as protection.

"Show yourself, Terence!" Fabrizio commanded, his voice slicing through the darkness like a knife. "Come on out, and face me, like a man!"

Pinocchio clung fiercely to Terence's leg at that, and Jiminy felt a grim chill go through him.

When Fabrizio moved away from them at some point, Terence put his hand briefly on top of Pinocchio's head, and instructed him in a low voice, "Stay here, Pinocchio. I'm going out there."

"Terence, are you crazy?" Jiminy whispered fiercely. "You'll be killed!"

"I have to do this," said Terence solemnly. "This is between me and Fabrizio. This is our battle, and no one else's. Jiminy, you keep an eye on Pinocchio. Make sure he remains safe."

"But, Terence—" Pinocchio now started to protest.

"Just stay hidden," Terence cut him off.

He knelt in front of Pinocchio and cupped his face in his hands, gazing earnestly into the lad's watery blue eyes, and the last thing he said to the little puppet was, "Whatever happens, Pinocchio, however this turns out, remember that I love you." So saying, he leaned in and kissed Pinocchio tenderly on the forehead. The words and the gentle kiss both touched and frightened Pinocchio in a way that Fabrizio, Stromboli, or anyone or anything else in the world never had…because it was almost like Terence was telling him goodbye.

Terence then stood and, leaving Pinocchio and Jiminy behind, began to stealthily make his way toward Fabrizio, taking care to remain in the deepest, darkest shadows.

He wove his way from one spot to another, as silently as if his feet were made of velvet.

Fabrizio, though his back was facing Terence, sensed he was being followed, and he abruptly whirled around at one point, ready to shoot—but Terence was one step ahead of him, and had ducked out of sight just in time. Fabrizio's raven eyes very slowly roamed from one end to another, and in his mind the man thought, _Playing hide-and-seek, are we, Terence? _

Terence held his breath and remained as still as a statue, though his knees felt ready to buckle, and his stomach was twisted in painful, sickening knots.

The tension in the air was so thick, you could practically cut it with a knife.

After standing still for a minute, a minute that seemed to span an eternity, Fabrizio began moving once again, this time in a different direction. Terence followed him. Unbeknownst to either of the two men, Pinocchio was secretly trailing after Terence, though the boy made sure to keep himself quiet and at a safe distance, with Jiminy at Pinocchio's heels.

Ultimately, when Terence felt the moment was just right, he made a flying leap at Fabrizio from behind and pounced onto the man's back. Fabrizio was so startled that he inadvertently jerked the trigger, and his gun went off with a blast like a cannon. The bullet was shot skyward, and ended up going through the roof of the pavilion. Even though they were expecting it, Pinocchio and Jiminy simultaneously jumped a mile at the bang, Jiminy clutching at his heart as if he were suffering a heart attack, and it was with the most paramount effort that Pinocchio did not cry out. Terence and Fabrizio now found themselves entangled in a one-on-one wrestling match on the ground. They rolled over as they grappled violently with each other, Terence on top of Fabrizio one second, Fabrizio on top of Terence the next. Fabrizio ended up losing his top hat in the tussle, and Terence somehow managed to knock his gun out of his hand so that it went skittering away. Pinocchio stood by the whole time and watched helplessly as the two men fought like a pair of vicious dogs. Jiminy covered his face with his hands, as if he could not stand to watch, though he peeked apprehensively through his fingers. At one point, while Fabrizio lay flat on his back with Terence pinning him down, Terence shouted vehemently in his opponent's face, "You snake! You foul, filthy viper! I'll rip your eyes out, the old-fashioned way, when you mess with me!"

"Insolent whelp!" Fabrizio shouted back, and he used both his feet to kick Terence away from him and send Terence tumbling a good ten feet or so.

By the time Terence recovered, Fabrizio had already propelled himself to his feet again. His sleek black hair, once nicely combed back, hung in his livid white face in disheveled strands.

Terence jumped up as well, his own silver-white hair also all over his own paint-smeared face. The designs that Armando and Bernardo had so painstakingly crafted were distorted and muddled, so Terence's face was now really just a big splatter of white and red and blue and black.

"You have meddled for the last time, Terence," Fabrizio said maliciously as they stood opposite one another, and for one crazed moment, Terence wasn't even sure whether this was a man, or an animal. "I should have disposed of you sooner, right when I first had the chance. You ought to have made it easier on yourself, and everyone else, and left Pinocchio to me!"

"How can you do these things, Fabrizio?" Terence demanded. "Why can't you just leave Pinocchio alone?"

"Times have changed, boy," Fabrizio retorted. "If I am to keep my business afloat, and retain my position, I must do what I can, and take what I can get, when I can get it!"

"But to kidnap children?" Terence cried disbelievingly.

"I'll kidnap a hundred children, before I let this company tank! It has taken me more than twenty years to get to where I am today, and nothing and nobody is going to screw it up for me now!"

Seeing his revolver lying on the ground, just a short distance away, Fabrizio made a move to retrieve it. But Terence beat him to it, and got his hands upon the firearm first.

It was now Fabrizio who found himself at gunpoint. Terence stood squarely before his foe and held the gun tightly in both hands, though his hands were shaking noticeably.

At first Fabrizio looked nervous, but his apprehension was only temporary, and his lips soon curled into that repulsive grin of his.

"Go ahead, shoot me," he taunted.

Terence's finger was on the trigger, and he could very well have pulled that trigger at any time and brought an end to it all.

Yet for some reason, Terence just couldn't bring himself to do it.

His angry countenance began to slowly soften, like winter snow under a summer sun, and he faltered.

Fabrizio laughed at the look of uncertainty on the youth's face. "What's the matter, boy? Don't have the stomach? Too cowardly to kill?"

Slowly, inch by inch, Terence lowered the gun further. Just as Fabrizio presumed, Terence was no assassin. The youth was much too humane to deliberately take a life.

"Go on," Fabrizio jeered, "prove that you're a _real_ man!"

Pinocchio and Jiminy watched the scene with baited breath.

But all Terence did was glare coldly at Fabrizio, his blue eyes glittering like ice, and all he said in reply was, "I'm not a man like you, Fabrizio." With that, in a single, swift movement, he smashed open the clip that held the ammunition, and emptied the gun of all its remaining shells. Then he wound up and threw the gun itself away, with all his might.

Fabrizio lunged at Terence, making a fervent grab to take his weapon back, but Terence was too quick for him. Within the blink of an eye, the gun disappeared completely from sight.

Even if Fabrizio had managed to retrieve it, he would no longer have been able to use it.

Pinocchio and Jiminy were greatly impressed with what they saw and heard, but Fabrizio was furious, more so than ever.

"Looks like I'll have to take you down with my own bare hands," the man snarled.

Before Terence even knew what was coming, Fabrizio punched him deep in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Jiminy and Pinocchio recoiled at the sight, and Terence immediately bent over and clutched his throbbing stomach, struggling weakly for air. Fabrizio punched Terence again, this time in the face, striking him directly on the left cheekbone.

The second blow caused Terence to spiral off balance and fall facefirst to the ground.

And Fabrizio wasn't even done there.

Pinocchio watched in horrified disbelief as Fabrizio mercilessly kicked and punched, and overall beat the life out of Terence. Jiminy grimaced, and covered his eyes completely to avoid the sight. The sounds of Fabrizio's beatings, in addition to the pained cries and groans that sounded from Terence, were awful, and Pinocchio's eyes flooded over with tears.

Just when it seemed the terrible battering and mauling would never stop, Fabrizio finally ceased, at least for the time being, after he had knocked Terence several feet away from him.

Terence lay on the ground in a doubled heap, breathing in short, ragged gasps, his color-tinted face covered with numerous, ugly bruises. Blood streamed from his nose and from one corner of his mouth, mingling with the streaks of red paint. The poor young man was a complete mess, from head to foot. His costume was filthy and torn in several areas, the right sleeve stained a solid scarlet from the wound in his shoulder. While he lay there, Fabrizio approached him, and crouched down to his level.

He leaned in, like he was about to share a secret with Terence, but Pinocchio could hear the man clearly, even from where he stood: "It's over, Terence. Pinocchio is mine."

At that instant, something inside Pinocchio snapped.

All traces of fear suddenly fled him, and the boy narrowed his eyes and jutted out his lower lip in a scowl, his hands balling into rock-solid fists. He stood straighter and taller than he ever had before. His eyes, once anxious and timid, blazed with courage and heated determination. It was really quite remarkable to see how drastic a change had come in the boy's disposition, all within the course of one night. Pinocchio said not a word, but began to advance swiftly on Fabrizio and Terence, in spite of Terence's warning to stay hidden.

"_Pinocchio!_" Jiminy called urgently after him, when he looked up and saw what the puppet was doing.

But Pinocchio paid the cricket no heed.

The little clown puppet caught up with Fabrizio just as he was saying to Terence, in a derisive tone, "Don't worry, I'll take good care of the kid—"

And before anything else could happen, Pinocchio jumped onto Fabrizio's back, taking Fabrizio by complete surprise. The boy caught the man round the neck, nearly choking him on the spot.

When it dawned on Fabrizio just what was going on, he shouted indignantly to Pinocchio, "Hey, get off me!"

But Pinocchio refused to relinquish his grip, and only squeezed all the tighter. Incensed, Fabrizio fought furiously to pry Pinocchio loose, forgetting about Terence for the time being.

Ultimately, he succeeded in throwing Pinocchio completely off, but then Pinocchio kicked him impetuously in the shin. Since the boy's feet were the hardest part of him, being made of especially tough wood, he gave Fabrizio quite a blow. Fabrizio actually yelled out when he was struck and lifted his injured leg, hopping in place on one foot.

This made the man all the more enraged, were such a thing possible. "Why, you miserable little—"

Giving voice to the foulest, vilest words in his vocabulary, he made a lunge for Pinocchio's throat, but Pinocchio dodged him and ran away, as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him.

"_Get back here!_" Fabrizio bellowed, as he went after the boy.

While the wicked showman pursued the little marionette, Jiminy raced up to Terence, who was still sprawled in the dirt, and who was only starting to recover from the nasty beating he'd just received. "Terence, quick—get up!" the cricket exclaimed. "Fabrizio's gone after Pinoke!"

The mention of Pinocchio snapped Terence back to reality in an instant. "What?" he gasped, lifting his head at once, and Jiminy was aghast to see the young man's face up close. Jiminy knew the red on Terence's face wasn't just paint, and he felt his stomach turn unpleasantly. "Where did they go?" Terence demanded as he climbed to his feet, paying no mind to his injuries.

"They went that way…" Jiminy had just barely pointed Terence in the appropriate direction, and the youth was already hurtling away, moving with only a slight limp.

Meanwhile, Fabrizio chased Pinocchio all the way back into the main showground.

When Fabrizio saw that Pinocchio was heading for the highwire, where Arietta usually performed, he decided to head the puppet off.

Pinocchio bravely made the high, treacherous climb up to the very top, where he was well over a hundred feet above the ground. When the boy was perched on one end of the stiff wire, bathed in the glow of one of the remaining floodlights, Bernardo spotted him from below, and the clown cried out frantically to the others, "Look, up there!"

Everyone else stopped what they were doing and looked to where his index finger was pointing, and there was more than one gasp and outcry at the sight of Pinocchio.

"Pinocchio!" Gahiji yelled vehemently.

"_Pinocchio!_" Arietta wailed to high heaven at the same time.

When Terence entered the pitch and saw Pinocchio himself, he too gasped at the sight, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "Pinocchio—_NO!_" the youth screamed with all his heart.

From the top, Pinocchio made the mistake of looking down, and his heart nearly stopped to see just how high up he was.

His innate fear of heights threatened to get the better of him, there and then. He felt dizzy and nauseous, and the whole world seemed to tilt before his very eyes. Pinocchio shut his eyes tightly, fearing for one dreadful moment that he was going to faint. Swallowing hard, trying to force his fear down his stomach, the boy opened his eyes again and, making sure to avoid eye contact with the ground again, began to tentatively make his way across the wire. He held his arms out to help himself balance, and he told himself silently to take it one step at a time.

_Put one foot in front of the other, don't look down, _became his inner mantra.

Suddenly, Fabrizio appeared right in front of him. Pinocchio cried out at the sight of the man and jumped, very nearly losing his balance as he did so. Like Pinocchio, Fabrizio was perched precariously on the thin wire. He had secretly come up the other end, the end that was mostly concealed in shadows, and met up with Pinocchio in the middle.

There was a new chorus of gasps from the bystanders below, and Armando wailed in dismay, "Oh, no!"

"Oh, my gosh!" Terence exclaimed.

Without a moment to lose, Terence rushed toward the highwire, and started climbing up himself. He only prayed he would be able to reach Pinocchio and Fabrizio in time.

"Terence, what are you doing?" Bernardo hollered to the young man, when he saw him.

"Be careful, Terence!" said Arietta earnestly.

Pinocchio, unaware of anything else going on around him, stared up apprehensively at his master, Fabrizio's chalk-white face nothing less of monstrous in the half-light.

"Give it up, boy," Fabrizio hissed at him, his black eyes flashing behind his wild tangle of black hair. "You've got nowhere else to go. You are mine!"

That was when Pinocchio regained his courage and his strength, and the boy straightened his posture and shouted defiantly at the man, "_No!_"

"No?" Fabrizio echoed, scandalized. "You dare to tell me 'no'?"

"I will never be yours, Fabrizio," Pinocchio declared boldly. "Not ever again!"

Fabrizio's eyes narrowed into ominous slits at the wooden half-pint.

"You impudent, ungrateful brat! I condescend to take you in, give you a home, make you a star—and this is the thanks you give me?"

"This is not a home!" said Pinocchio bitterly. "A home is where you are loved, where you are with someone who looks out for you and takes care of you. You haven't taken care of me, Fabrizio. You're nothing but a cruel, mean, horrible monster, and I wouldn't be in your circus for anything!"

This earned the puppet a severe blow on the cheek, the blow almost knocking him off the wire. "How_ dare_ you say such things, boy!" Fabrizio raged at him. "You have your nerve!"

Gasping slightly from the unexpected hit, Pinocchio rested a ginger hand on his sore cheek and slowly gazed up at Fabrizio again, who stormed on, "You're mine, you gutless pup! Do you hear me? And I don't let go of what's mine! As soon as I get rid of that meddlesome Terence, once and for all, you and I are ditching this lowdown town. We will tour the world, where we'll make a real living for ourselves, where you'll rake in the spectators, and I'll rake in the dough. What's it going to be, Pinocchio? You really have no other alternative, so I suggest you do as I say!"

But all Pinocchio said in reply was, "Never!"

So saying, he shot Fabrizio in the eyes with water squirted from the artificial flower pinned to his costume, like the ones the other clowns had.

"Agghhh!" Fabrizio exclaimed, immediately lifting both hands to his face.

Pinocchio then kicked at the man's ankles, causing him to lose his balance and topple. Fabrizio would surely have fallen, had his hand not seized hold of the wire at the last possible moment. The next thing anyone knew, Fabrizio dangled many feet above solid ground, a single wire the only thing saving him from a deadly drop. The wire sagged dangerously under his weight.

Everyone who viewed this from below simultaneously gasped, and even Pinocchio's eyes widened in alarm.

Fabrizio, realizing he would never make it if he fell, forthwith reached up to firmly grasp the wire with his second hand.

When Pinocchio offered to help him, Fabrizio readily accepted the boy's outstretched hand—only to pull Pinocchio down, too!

Pinocchio gave out a terrified yelp as he was jerked down, and the puppet was only just able to save himself by grabbing onto Fabrizio's boot.

Now, both Fabrizio and Pinocchio were hanging on for dear life.

"_Pinocchio!_" Armando, Bernardo, and Gahiji shouted together.

"Pinocchio, hang on!" called Arietta anxiously.

Jiminy, seeing all of this from the ground, became utterly petrified. And Terence, who had not quite yet made it to the top himself, began to climb faster than ever. Though Pinocchio tried to not look down, he couldn't help himself, and he almost became physically ill on the spot when it hit him once again how high up he and Fabrizio were.

There was nobody and nothing close enough to catch them, not even a net, or even that vast vat of pie filling.

If either one of them fell, there was almost no way they would survive.

Pinocchio couldn't hold back a whimper. His fingers ached from the way he clutched Fabrizio's ankle, but he dared not let go, or shift his grip in any way.

Fabrizio, with his own hands still gripping the wire, began to swing himself to and fro, like a pendulum. He was going to try to fling Pinocchio right off him!

"_Fabrizio!_" Fergal bellowed with all his might.

Gahiji yelled out desperately at that same time, "Fabrizio—_don't!_"

Even those who had taken a great dislike to Pinocchio in the beginning began screaming at the tops of their voices for Fabrizio to stop what he was doing.

But Fabrizio only rocked himself all the harder, gaining greater momentum with every swing, and Pinocchio wailed in terror as the world rushed dizzyingly past his eyes.

Finally, the boy could hold on no longer, and was thrown fully into the air, like a rag doll.

Pinocchio immediately shut his eyes tightly, expecting to fall to his doom—but he hadn't fallen very far before something caught hold of his sleeve, saving him.

When the puppet dared to open his eyes again, he looked up and saw that Terence had him by the cuff. The young man was hunkered down, using both legs and his left hand to grasp the wire, and his right hand was what clutched Pinocchio's sleeve. He'd just barely managed to save the puppet in time, when Fabrizio tossed him.

The timing was nothing short of impeccable.

"I've got you, Pinocchio!" Terence called urgently to the boy.

At a loss for words, temporarily faint from the shock, Pinocchio could only breathe out a tremulous sigh of relief, as could Jiminy and everyone else below.

But the peril was far from over.

While Terence struggled to maintain his hold on Pinocchio, Fabrizio hoisted himself back up again, and he stood directly over the helpless twosome, laughing menacingly as he towered above them. All Terence and Pinocchio could do was gaze up at him in terror and trepidation, knowing there was hardly anything to stop the man from doing them both in now.

"Thus concludes our final act!" Fabrizio proclaimed, in a voice loud enough for all ears to hear, his eyes and withered face alight with sinister glee. "I do hope you have enjoyed our last show—because it _is _the last show any of you shall ever see in this town, or anywhere else at all, ever again!"

No sooner had these words passed from the man's lips than the wire gave a sudden, unpleasant quiver, causing Fabrizio to wobble dangerously.

Terence and Pinocchio felt the tremor, too.

In that instant, all three of them knew what was going to happen before it did.

The mechanism at one end that held the wire taut broke right off; as a result, that end of the wire came loose. Terence, having hold of the wire, ended up swinging back with Pinocchio, while Fabrizio fell freely through the air. Fabrizio's only reaction was a brief yet piercing shriek as he plummeted like a brick, toward a massive pile of wooden crates below.

There was a heartstopping crash and a dreadful, nauseating _crack _of wood as the crates shattered…and then there was silence.

Arietta, Gahiji, Fergal, the clowns, and all the others fled to the scene as quickly as they could. At first, all they could see was a mere pile of smashed wood—but as they searched anxiously together for any sign of their master, they soon discovered one single white-gloved hand sticking into view, from under the mountain of broken splinters and uneven planks.

The fingers never moved.

Everyone immediately backed away from the sight, Arietta gasping and covering her mouth, her blue eyes bulging with shock and utmost horror.

Bernardo and Armando simultaneously clutched at their hearts, while Fergal's dark face went whiter than a sheet.

"Heaven have mercy upon us!" Gahiji whispered tremulously, acknowledging the horrible truth.

Fabrizio was dead.

No one knew what to say, or what to think, or how to feel, aside from chill dread and numb disbelief.

Much as they despised Fabrizio, they'd never wanted the man dead.

It was not long at all after this horrible tragedy that an even worse tragedy transpired. Terence, who continued to sway to and fro on the loose wire with Pinocchio, heard a faint ripping sound, and he and Pinocchio both saw, to their dismay, that Pinocchio's costume was beginning to tear, right where Terence held him.

The next thing anyone knew, the puppet's sleeve came completely apart, and Pinocchio ended up plummeting to earth himself.

"PINOCCHIO!" Jiminy bellowed, just as loud as any cricket could have ever bellowed.

"PINOCCHIO!" Arietta, Bernardo, Armando, Gahiji, and Fergal hollered, their vehement voices blending into one.

"_PINOCCHIO!_" Terence wailed at that same time, with every last ounce of his heart and soul.

But it was too late.

Pinocchio, like Fabrizio, could only scream as he fell; and as Terence had lost him in the shadowy half of the arena, he soon disappeared completely into the dark, out of sight.

The boy's final cry was soon silenced…and it was like Terence's very heart had fallen to the earth with him. "_Pinocchio!_" was the only word upon the youth's tongue, and it tore agonizingly from his throat. He didn't even realize it when a hot gush of tears burst from his eyes, as water bursting through a broken dam, and soaked his paint-striped face.

As his momentum on the wire slowed, Terence gradually allowed himself to slip down, inch by inch, his gloves protecting his hands from getting cut or burned from the friction.

When at long last he reached the point where he could let go and drop safely to the ground, his other companions had already gone ahead of him. Terence soon heard Armando cry out, "I found him! He's over here!" With Jiminy at his heels, Terence followed the sound of Armando's voice, his legs moving like they had a mind all their own.

When Terence met up with Armando, the clown said not a word, but vaguely pointed him in one direction.

There, barely visible in the shadows, lay a tiny, broken wooden figure, swathed in an absurdly colored and patterned suit, not moving.

It was Pinocchio, all right. Terence knew him when he saw him, without an inkling of doubt. When Jiminy peeked around Terence's foot and beheld Pinocchio for himself, the cricket froze completely from head to toe, knowing full well what he was seeing, yet not daring to believe his eyes.

"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "No…no…_Pinocchio_…"

Somehow, Terence got his legs to move, and he very slowly approached the stone-still puppet, feeling as if he were moving through a dream.

It could not have happened…it could not be true…it just _couldn't _be…

While a fraction of Terence secretly prayed that Pinocchio was all right, the young man knew indubitably there was no way the child could have survived a fall like that.

When Terence reached Pinocchio, he saw that the marionette was spread-eagled on his back, his eyes closed, his head tilted at an odd angle.

Terence slowly settled onto his knees at his side, unaware of anyone or anything else in the world except for this one small puppet made of pine: the child who was joined to his heart, the child whom he strove so hard to regain, for whom he had risked his very life, who was now lost to him…forever.

At first, Terence hesitated to touch the boy, but then his large, strong hands slowly and gently slid underneath Pinocchio and lifted him with exceptional care from the ground. Pinocchio never made a sound as Terence picked him up and cradled him to his breast, and his only movement was the hopeless loll of his little head. His arms and legs hung as limp as sodden noodles.

Terence felt his shock gradually ebb away as he knelt in that spot, and he began to feel the full, keen potency of grief and heartbreak, which are beyond words to adequately describe.

"Pinocchio," the youth spoke, in a devastated whisper. "Oh, Pinocchio…my dear Pinocchio…"

Pinocchio did not answer. And Terence knew he would never be able to speak to the boy, or hear the boy's voice speak back to him, ever again.


	23. Chapter 23: Mending the Pieces

**THE GUARDIAN  
**

_I can't believe some of you seriously believed that last chapter was _the _last chapter of this story! Come on, you didn't think I was going to end my story that way, did you? You didn't think I would be that heartless, did you? This i__s the last chapter, people. This is __how the story ends, and I think you'll be predictably but pleasantly surprised. _

_Wow-w-w-w-_ser_…I never thought this day would come, but now that I've successfully reached the end of this little Disney tale, it feels like the end has come too soon. I've worked so diligently on this for so many months, and now I'm done. Not to worry, though; I've already planned out a sequel to this, so the fun's not over quite yet! Writing this thing was definitely a challenge, but it's a challenge that's brought me immense satisfaction and happiness, especially when I'd review the reviews my readers left me. I doubt I would have gotten this far had it not been for you guys. You have no idea how much each and every one of you mean to me, how valuable an asset you are in my writing. Oftentimes, when I felt I couldn't go any further with this, your love and enthusiasm proved to be the fuel I needed. Thank you, one and all. Thank you so very much. _

_Okey-dokey, let us proceed with the reading! _

* * *

**Pinocchio and Jiminy © Disney**

**Terence and Other Characters © unicorn-skydancer08**

**Lyrics (at the end of the story) ****© Disney**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

**_All rights reserved._  
**

* * *

**Chapter 23: Mending the Pieces**

Later, that same night, Pinocchio's lifeless body rested upon the straw bed of his old room at the Red Mount Inn. The puppet was dressed in his old clothes again, and his old Tyrolean cap covered the top of his head. Next to him, Terence knelt on the cold, hard floor, keeping watch over him. Like Pinocchio, Terence was also garbed in his former garments, and every remaining trace of paint and blood had been removed from his face, although his face was still considerably bruised. Though it could not be seen at that time, the youth's injured shoulder had been carefully bandaged. The pain from Terence's physical wound, however, was nothing in comparison to the wound that had been permanently scored into his heart.

A single candle flickered cheerlessly on a low table, filling the room with a subdued glow, casting long, grotesque shadows across the walls and floor.

Jiminy stood next to that candle, with his little hat removed in respect. Behind Terence, on the other side of the room, Arietta, Fergal, Bernardo, Armando, Gahiji, and a few others from the circus stood in the doorway, watching the sad scene in stone silence. The innkeeper himself stood with them, looking every bit as forlorn as the rest of the lot.

"Oh, Pinocchio," Terence whispered, his face tragic as he regarded the poor puppet, who appeared to be only sleeping. "My brave little Pinocchio."

Jiminy said nothing, but dabbed at his brimming eyes with a tiny handkerchief he'd extracted from his jacket before folding his arms over the edge of the candlestick holder and burying his head in his arms.

Arietta started crying softly, lowering her head so that her hair came spilling down, and lifting both hands to cover her face. Bernardo covered his face with his hands as well, his shoulders heaving with silent, convulsive sobs, while Armando hid his eyes within a single trembling hand. Gahiji and Fergal only stood where they were and continued to watch Terence and Pinocchio, though both their faces were clearly streaked with tears, and Fergal's thick lip quivered like a child's. At length, without a word, the innkeeper reached for the handle of the door. He very slowly and very quietly drew the door all the way shut, leaving Terence in peace.

Still on his knees, Terence leaned down and kissed Pinocchio's forehead, his tears falling onto the boy's face as he did so. "Oh, my sweet Pinocchio," he went on woefully, "what have I done to you? What have I gotten you into? Had it not been for me, none of this would have ever happened. Forgive me, Pinocchio. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jiminy did not look up while Terence spoke, only sank his head deeper into his folded arms and mourned for Pinocchio in silence.

"You saved my life," Terence continued, focusing all his attention on the motionless puppet before him. "You sacrificed yourself for me. And what has become of it? Oh, if only this were somehow reversed…if only I could have been in your place." He stroked Pinocchio's brow, and the child did not stir beneath his exceedingly gentle touch. "I love you, Pinocchio. In spite of everything, in spite of the short time we had together, I could never have loved you more than if you had truly been my son. You were too good for this world, my little wooden friend…too good for me. You were a treasure far too precious for me to hold." By this time, Terence's emotions overwhelmed him, and the youth plunged his face into his hands and broke into bitter tears. After some time, he drew his hands away, but then folded his arms over the edge of the bed, just as Jiminy was doing, and put his head down on his arms, completely concealing his face.

There he remained, sobbing wretchedly over Pinocchio's body for what must have been hours. Once or twice he lifted his head a little, but only long enough to brush at his overflowing eyes before dropping his face again to weep some more.

All that time, Jiminy never once looked up from his spot.

Even after Terence's tears had run dry and his agonized sobs no longer ripped his throat, he resolutely kept his forehead pressed to his arms, and he stayed in place, drawing a shuddering gasp every now and again, having neither the strength nor the will to move. How much time passed him by in that gloomy room, he neither knew nor cared, though his candle burned steadily lower by the hour. He might very well remain there until morning…if morning was to come again. Somehow, Terence found it impossible to believe that life itself could ever go on when he had spent such an abundance of grief this night, most especially when he was without his Pinocchio.

Now the youth understood what Pinocchio went through when Geppetto died. The loss was beyond all worldly description.

It was over…it was all over. Pinocchio was gone, in every sense of the word, and there was no way Terence and Jiminy could get him back.

Or so they thought.

Had either the cricket or the white-haired man bothered to look up, they might have seen the soft blue light that encased Pinocchio's still form; had they not been so immersed in their own grief, they might have heard the gentle, ethereal voice that whispered, "_Awake, Pinocchio…awake…_" When the voice fell silent, when the blue radiance faded, the boy that lay upon the bed was no longer a wooden puppet.

It was Pinocchio, no doubt—but he had now miraculously become a real boy, of genuine flesh and bone and blood, just as Geppetto had once wished for.

Even more miraculous than this, the boy's limbs began to shift, and the softest whisper of breath passed his lips.

Slowly, but surely, Pinocchio's chest rose and fell as he breathed in life again, until he was breathing consistently, and the hue of health filled his little face. Like a new butterfly beating its wings, his eyelids fluttered open.

He blinked as he took in his surroundings. The child struggled to an upright position, rubbing at his eyes with his fists.

What had just happened? Had he really been dead? He felt more as if he had only awoken from a long nap. Everything that had transpired certainly seemed like a dream.

Not yet aware of the great change that had come over him, Pinocchio looked to his side and was distressed to find Terence kneeling there, with his body slumped forward and his head nestled in his arms. Although Pinocchio couldn't see his face, Terence's shoulders were trembling noticeably, though he hardly made a sound. His long, thick white bangs spilled freely over his forearms, and Pinocchio could see the nape of the young man's neck. Terence never moved or looked up; he just stayed where he was, like he was resting or praying with every fiber of his being.

"Terence?" said Pinocchio. "Terence, what's the matter? Why are you so sad?"

Thinking he was only hearing things, Terence unconsciously replied in a low, muffled voice, "Because…you're dead, Pinocchio."

"No," Pinocchio contradicted, shaking his head vigorously. "No, I'm not!"

"Yes," Terence murmured, still keeping his face hidden as he said it, "yes, you are. Now lie down…let me be…"

"But, Terence, I'm alive!" said Pinocchio, and he reached out to touch Terence's shoulder to get his attention. "Just look at me—" The rest of his sentence died instantly on his lips when he looked at his hand, as well as his whole arm, and saw that he had soft, peach-colored skin rather than hard brown wood. The boy stared in awe and disbelief at himself, at his five perfectly shaped fingers, then he began to tentatively feel himself all over.

For a moment, he was sure he must be someone else, and he could not tell whether he was truly awake or dreaming with his eyes open.

But when the truth finally sank in, a smile of utmost jubilation lit up Pinocchio's face, like the sun at noonday, and the overwhelmed child exclaimed, "Terence! Terence, I'm—I'm—a real—_I'm a real boy!_"

That was when Terence at long last raised his head all the way, revealing his red-rimmed eyes and pale, tearstained face. At the sight of Pinocchio, alive and whole and sitting up, and in the form of flesh, the young man gave quite a start. He shrank back from the bed, flinging an arm up in front of his face as if the boy were some terrifying specter.

When he recovered somewhat from the shock, when he found his tongue, he said, his voice thickened from tears, "P-_Pinocchio?_"

"Terence," Pinocchio rejoined, beaming at him, his blue eyes alight and dancing.

At first, Terence was so dumbfounded he couldn't speak, or do anything aside from staring. He looked like he had been bewitched, with his eyes bulged to bursting and his mouth agape.

It couldn't be, his inner voice insisted, it wasn't possible! There was no _way_ Pinocchio could be alive…was there?

What was this?

Could this little black-haired, rosy-cheeked boy and his Pinocchio truly be the same?

Gazing into the lad's eyes, Terence recognized their lively blue color, and he saw that he still wore the same clothes as before. Even his feathered cap looked the same. As though to make absolutely sure this was for real, that this was not a dream or some cruel trickery, Terence stretched forth a trembling hand and gingerly touched the side of Pinocchio's face. Pinocchio did not flinch, or shy away. His skin felt pleasantly warm and soft, and Terence ran his hand all along Pinocchio's cheek, feeling the child's features. Pinocchio sat very quietly and allowed himself to be stroked, taking pleasure and comfort in the caress.

As Terence touched Pinocchio, felt him for himself, all traces of doubt and fear melted away, like snowmelt; he felt his bowels overflow with inexpressible joy, relief, and gratitude. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to heaven, his face awash in tears and emotion. When he opened his eyes again, he was barely able to whisper, "_Pinocchio._"

As before, his emotions got the better of him, and when Pinocchio crawled a little closer, all Terence could do was engulf his boy in a passionate hug, holding onto the child as if he would never let him go. Pinocchio readily slid his arms around Terence's neck, hugging him every bit as hard, if not harder. At a complete loss for words, almost faint from the relief and the pure rapture, all Terence could do was clasp Pinocchio to his heart and sob into his shoulder, while offering endless thanks to heaven. Pinocchio could feel the warm wetness of Terence's tears, but he only smiled and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on Terence's shoulder.

Jiminy, in the meantime, had just looked up himself. Imagine the cricket's amazement when he glanced over his shoulder and found Terence and Pinocchio entangled in one another's arms, with Pinocchio not only alive but a real boy! For a split second, Jiminy was convinced he'd been hoodwinked. But his incredulity soon switched to sheer delight, and the cricket gave out a terrific whoop of glee and made a three-foot-high spring into the air.

At that same moment, Terence rose to his feet, lifting Pinocchio up off the bed with him. Laughing and crying by turns, he spun around with the boy in wide, sweeping circles.

"Oh, Pinocchio," the young man cried, "this is _wonderful! _It—it's a miracle!" As he stood still (for the time being), and fondled Pinocchio, covering the child's face with tears and kisses, he rambled on, "Oh, to think that this started out as the worst night of my entire—to think that I lost you—that you were—" So overcome was Terence that he barely understood half of his own words. Somehow, they spilled out of him like water.

He couldn't help himself; having Pinocchio restored to him when his soul had just been destroyed, when he was convinced the boy was lost to him forever…it was too good to be true.

At one point, he calmed down enough to remember Arietta, Fergal, and all the others, and he told Pinocchio and Jiminy, "Oh, wait until everyone else finds out about this! Come on!"

So saying, he made a swift beeline for the door, his arms still cradling Pinocchio. Jiminy was right behind them.

Downstairs, their companions were moping in the dining hall. Arietta leaned on Gahiji's shoulder while he patted her absentmindedly on the head. Bernardo and Armando were both slumped at one of the tables, with their elbows on top of the table and their heads in their hands. Fergal stood forlornly against the opposite wall, and the innkeeper and all the others were scattered about here and there, like randomly scattered jacks.

They were all jolted to hear the sudden thundering of racing footsteps and Terence's overexcited voice crying out to them. "Everybody!" he was saying in nothing short of a wail. "Everybody, come quick—you won't _believe_ what has happened!"

From the way he was shouting, all feared for a dreadful moment that something even worse had somehow come about. Bernardo and Armando jumped up so abruptly that they knocked their chairs over at the same time, while the innkeeper, who squatted in a chair of his own, gave such a start that he keeled over backwards onto the floor.

There was a flurry of activity as everyone made a move for the door. They all met up with Terence just as he was coming in. "Terence," Armando gasped, "what's—"

No sooner had he begun to speak than his words died, seeing what Terence had brought with him.

You can well imagine the atmosphere of that room when everyone saw for themselves what had come about. First, there was the initial shock at seeing Pinocchio alive, when they'd personally seen him fall to his death and discovered his lifeless body. Then it was an even greater shock to see that he was not a puppet anymore, but a human, like the rest of them. Arietta gasped and put a hand to her mouth, while Bernardo whispered faintly, "I can't believe it!"

"How can this be?" asked a very bewildered Dino, who accompanied them.

"Pinocchio?" said Gahiji in a hushed voice, regarding the puppet with eyes that would have stretched to the moon had they been any bigger. "Is it really?"

The innkeeper said nothing, but stumbled back in his shock, unconsciously bumping into a table and upsetting an empty glass tumbler.

Pinocchio smiled very sweetly at all his friends from the circus and told them, "Yes, it's me."

At last they were convinced, and I leave you to picture for yourselves the scene of joy and excitement that followed.

There was much laughter, and a great abundance of tears, as everybody took turns embracing Pinocchio as well as each other. Fergal grabbed both Bernardo and Gahiji at once and lifted the two men off the floor in a breath-stealing, bone-crushing hug, while Arietta flung her arms about Armando's neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Terence took part in the hugging and weeping, and Arietta kissed him as well, though not as soundly as she had kissed Armando. Fergal tossed Pinocchio exuberantly into the air several times, catching the boy easily every time. Later, Bernardo and Armando seized Pinocchio by the hands and made him dance around with them in a circle.

"This calls for a celebration!" Gahiji declared, and the rest of them couldn't have agreed more.

Notwithstanding it was the middle of the night, they broke out into a full-fledged dance, right there in the dining hall. As they had no instruments, they made music with their own singing and clapping. Arietta danced mostly with Armando, Armando twirling her about like a courtly gentleman. Fergal, Gahiji, and Bernardo, along with Terence and Pinocchio, all engaged in a lively _saltarello_. At one point, Bernardo whipped out an entire bottle of sparkling wine from nowhere, and the old clown shook the bottle well before popping the cork, showering all who stood within range. Those who were drenched only laughed, not caring in the least.

The innkeeper disappeared into the kitchen and brought out some of his very best food and wine, and it was all on the house.

For hours, everyone danced, ate, drank, and made themselves merry. The festivities could have lasted all night; from the way those people were talking, laughing, singing, dancing, and making endless toasts with the wine, that may have very well been the case. Eventually, however, Pinocchio felt the need to slip away from the rest of them, just for a moment.

Terence noticed the boy as he quietly stole out of the room. Without a word, the young man set his glass aside and went after him.

No one else appeared to notice.

Pinocchio slipped out the back door, into the night, where it was more quiet and peaceful.

There, he sat on the cool stone steps, gazing into the night sky. A myriad of jeweled stars graced the heavens, and one star outshone all the others. As Pinocchio watched that one star, he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Pinocchio?"

When Pinocchio turned to look, he saw Terence standing there, looked poised and graceful as always. "Terence," said the boy, an adoring smile gracing his face at the sight of him.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing. Nothing much."

As Terence approached the child and stood over him, he asked very gently, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm all right," said Pinocchio, and he meant it. "I only wanted to be outside for a little while, that's all."

"May I join you?" Pinocchio nodded, so Terence took a seat next to him on the step. No sooner had he sat down than Pinocchio climbed into the youth's lap, and Terence wrapped him in his arms and held him close.

Terence marveled at how much softer Pinocchio felt in his arms, how much warmer and more pliable his body was. Pinocchio turned and burrowed his head in Terence's chest, while Terence absently rocked his little one back and forth, as a mother rocking her baby. With his forehead nestled against the top of Pinocchio's head, he closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of how this night started out as the worst night of his entire existence…but now it had become a night of such bliss. To think that Pinocchio was dead, but now sitting here with him, alive and well…to think that the boy had gone from a child of pine to a child of flesh…it was almost too much to believe.

Terence didn't see how this was possible. Yes, he knew anything was possible, yet he truly could not help wondering how this could be. There was no way this could have been mere coincidence.

Clearly, some sort of magic was responsible for this—a very rare and a very special sort of magic.

"Terence? Pinoke?" Jiminy's small voice piped up, snapping Terence out of his reverie.

Hearing that voice, Pinocchio lifted his head from Terence's chest. The twosome looked back at the same time to find the tiny cricket watching them solicitously.

"Hello, Jiminy!" said Pinocchio when he saw him.

"Come sit with us, Jiminy," Terence beckoned, holding out an inviting hand.

Jiminy smiled and readily headed over. "Is everything okay out here?" he asked when he had joined up with them. "Why are you outside, when everyone else is celebrating inside?"

"It's all right, Jiminy," Terence said. "Pinocchio wanted a moment's peace, and I'm here to keep him company in the meantime."

"What's on your mind, Pinoke?" Jiminy queried.

Pinocchio didn't answer right away, but sat very quietly on Terence's lap. When the boy did speak, he said in a hushed voice, "I had a dream about my father."

"Another dream?" said Jiminy.

"You did?" Terence asked. He was hesitant to bring up the subject of Geppetto, but Pinocchio didn't seem the least bit troubled or sorrowful, not this time. Rather, the child's eyes shone with serenity, like there was nothing he needed to worry about anymore. It moved Terence to no small degree to see him in such a state of peace.

"I'm quite sure it was a dream," said the boy evocatively, "or maybe not. But either way, I saw him."

It dawned on Terence and Jiminy that Pinocchio must have seen his father sometime after he had plummeted to his death at Fabrizio's circus, and before he had awoken as a real boy.

The notion sent a chill through Terence, even as it melted his heart into a puddle.

Pinocchio explained, "I was in a strange place, where it was warm and quiet, and there was a lot of light. It was really nice, but I didn't know where I was, or where you were. At first I was terribly frightened, but then I heard someone calling to me…and I saw my father right there, smiling at me." His voice dropped to a whisper at that last bit.

Terence felt his throat tighten and fresh tears pool up as he pictured the scene. Jiminy, try as he might, couldn't help getting a little choked up, too.

Pinocchio continued, "I was sitting on his lap, while he hugged me. He seemed so real; I could actually feel him. I was crying, and I told him that I missed him and begged him to never leave me. Father just smiled and said that he would always be with me, even if I couldn't see him. He also said he would be waiting for me. Then the Blue Fairy came."

"The Blue Fairy?" Terence echoed.

Pinocchio nodded. "Uh-huh. She told me I had proven myself, that I deserved a second chance at life. Then she told me to wake up. I don't know what happened after that. All I remember is hearing Father say that he loved me; the next thing I knew, I was in my room with you, Terence."

Terence took one look into Pinocchio's eyes, and knew the child spoke the truth. Overwhelmed, unable to help the new tears that spilled down his cheeks, all he could do was pull Pinocchio against him again and hug him once more. As always, Pinocchio returned the hug. He laid his head under Terence's goatee, unable to cry himself, but feeling happier and more content than he had ever been.

His once heavy heart felt light, the tormenting pain and anguish of the past weeks having lost their sting. He no longer worried or felt so distraught about Geppetto being gone; and he knew now that, despite everything that had happened to him, the world was still a beautiful, wonderful place, and his life was worth the living. He was here now, with Terence and Jiminy, and he was going to make the most of it.

When Terence eased his hold on him, when Pinocchio was looking into his friend's tear-soaked face again, Terence smoothed the child's hair back from his forehead as he remarked, "You miss your father very much, don't you?"

"I do. I'll probably always miss him, like you said. But it helps to know that he's still out there, watching over me. Now I got _two_ fathers looking after me—and Jiminy makes three. I guess that makes me one very lucky boy."

"Aw, Pinoke…" said Jiminy, the words piercing him to the core.

Terence caught his breath, the tears that still shivered in his eyes glinting like diamonds, his moon-drenched face emanating incomprehensible love and humility. His heart felt so swollen, he was sure it would burst.

Oh, he marveled inwardly, what had he done to deserve such a precious, priceless gift like Pinocchio?

He knew next to nothing about this Blue Fairy Pinocchio spoke of, but whoever she was, he knew he would forever be in her debt. Never would he be able to thank her enough, and never would he forget what she had done for them all this night. Almost involuntarily, Terence's large, gentle hands moved to cup Pinocchio's chin. He rubbed his thumbs over the child's soft cheeks, his eyes drinking in the sight of him, his mind brooding over how blessed he was with every moment with the boy. Had they really found each other again just today? It seemed they were reunited only a second ago, and yet forever ago.

At length, Terence recovered enough of his voice to say, "I will not let you down, Pinocchio. I promised that I would take care of you, and that is what I intend to do. I cannot guarantee that everything will be perfect for us from here on…but I will certainly do everything I can in my power to provide for you and protect you. Here and now, we can truly begin what we'd meant to begin to begin with." He chuckled at his own quip, as did Jiminy.

Pinocchio smiled, thinking of how much Terence had come to mean to him, how much better his world was with the young man in it. He'd never known anyone so sweet, so noble, and so kind.

Nobody could have asked for a truer friend.

"Why did you do that for me, Terence?" the boy couldn't help asking. "Why were you always so kind to me?" He added quickly, "Not that I'm not grateful for it—but why would you bother with someone like me in the first place? You never even saw me before that night."

Terence knew perfectly well Pinocchio was referring to that dark, dreary night in the lonely alley, where he'd tracked him down in the first place. The youth took a moment to ponder his answer, and his words were soft and exceptionally gentle as he gave voice to them: "When I saw you for the first time, Pinocchio, sitting there alone, when I saw how cold, frightened, and miserable you were…something inside of me melted. I couldn't very well bring myself to turn and walk away. Somehow, I didn't have the heart to leave you as you were. You were just a puppet, but that didn't matter to me. I knew right away that you had a heart, and feelings like any other child. Anyone else would have easily gone their way, thinking it was none of their concern. But if only people were to show each other a little more kindness, if only we all treated each other with a bit more love, this world would be a far better place to be."

He paused before going on, "And I know and understand how terrible a thing it is to be lonely. As I told you before, I've been alone myself for much of my life. For many years, I had almost nobody. There were precious few people I could talk to, truly relate to. Now that I think of it, I suppose in a way, _I_ needed _you_, as much as you needed me."

Pinocchio said no more after that, but the look on his face said it all.

As the little group stayed close together, in the quiet moonlight, a faint mew sounded in the near distance. This snagged Pinocchio's attention, and he straightened up, his eyes glancing about from here to there.

"What was that?"

"Probably some stray cat, roaming the streets," Terence said.

The mew sounded again, a little louder this time. Pinocchio was sure he'd heard that mew before. Without another word, he wriggled loose from Terence's comforting hold and scrambled down from his knees.

"Pinocchio?" said Terence bewilderedly.

"Hey, Pinoke, where you going?" Jiminy called as the boy set off.

Pinocchio said nothing, but followed the sound of the mewing. At the same time, Terence and Jiminy stood and were after him. Ignoring the calls of his companions, Pinocchio went around to one side of the Red Mount Inn, where it was quite dark, and the ground was littered with garbage. Here, the mews were as loud and distinct as they had ever been; looking more closely, Pinocchio could just make out a tiny black kitten amid the pile of rubbish.

That kitten looked remarkably like—no, it _was_—

"_Figaro!_" Pinocchio cried out.

At this call, the little scrap of a cat stopped crying and turned his head in the direction of the voice. When he saw Pinocchio, he shrank back at first, but after only a few seconds, he appeared to recognize Pinocchio also, for he ran straight to him—or shuffled, rather, for he was weak and starving, with barely the strength to walk—and Pinocchio dropped to his knees and opened his arms to his former pet.

"Figaro! Oh, Figaro, it's you!"

Figaro couldn't very well talk back, of course, but he made a beeline into Pinocchio's outstretched arms. Despite how ragged and dirty he was, Pinocchio scooped him right up and nearly strangled him in a hug.

"_Figaro!_" he kept saying over and over, while Figaro mewed and purred and licked the boy's cheek enthusiastically.

By that time, Terence and Jiminy had caught up, and Terence said anxiously, "Pinocchio? Pinocchio, what is it?"

"It's Figaro!" was all Pinocchio could say, barely able to contain his joy.

"Figaro?" Jiminy repeated in surprise.

At first Terence was confused, but then he remembered Pinocchio mentioning Figaro when he was telling the story of his father. Figaro was that cat of his who trailed after him when Pinocchio was off to school, but Geppetto had kept back the little rascal. Could this be the same Figaro? "Are you sure it's him, Pinocchio?" he asked. "For all we know, this could be any common black cat—"

"No, no, it really _is _him!" Pinocchio insisted. "I would know him anywhere!"

Terence could tell from the way the cat nuzzled Pinocchio and purred so heartily that he was familiar with the boy, too. The young man's own face lit up in yet another smile. "Well, how about that? That's wonderful, Pinocchio!"

Jiminy was every bit as pleased and impressed, if not more.

Terence lowered himself to one knee next to Pinocchio. When Figaro saw Terence, his eyes widened and he didn't hesitate to scramble out of Pinocchio's arms and scurry for cover. "It's all right," said Terence when Figaro peeked out apprehensively at him from the shadows. He offered his hand to show he didn't mean the least bit of harm. "Come here. I'm not going to hurt you."

Figaro hesitated for a long time before very slowly advancing forward again, his ears flattened, his tail tucked between his shivering legs.

"That's right," Terence soothed. "Just a little closer. It's all right, boy, it's okay…" He continued to encourage Figaro in this way, and he remained perfectly still.

Slowly, inch by inch, Figaro dared to venture closer to the white-haired stranger. When he was finally close enough to touch, Terence proceeded to pet him. Figaro shut his eyes and tensed up at the first brush of Terence's fingers, but as Terence stroked him, he relaxed under the man's soft touch, and even allowed Terence to scratch his ears and tickle his chin. "There, now," said Terence amiably, "that's a good boy." As he continued to shower the kitten with words of tenderness and praise, and went on stroking him, Figaro grew more at ease around him. Soon, he was pressing his head firmly into the young man's palm and purring his little head off.

Up close, Terence was moved to see the state Figaro was in. Whatever had become of the kitten since Geppetto was gone, he would never know, but he could tell Figaro must have had it rough. His fur was dirty and scruffy, and in desperate need of a brush, with several noticeable patches missing here and there. Also, there was something on his front paws that looked very much like dried blood. When Figaro rolled onto his back to have his tummy rubbed, Terence could easily feel his ribs sticking out, and the little kitten smelled strongly of garbage, as if he had been rolling around in the heap.

"You poor thing," said Terence, shaking his head. "You have been through a lot yourself, haven't you?"

Figaro just gazed up at him, like he understood what the man was saying, and Terence held up his chin with two fingers as he consoled him, "Don't worry, you're safe now. We'll take good care of you, Figaro."

Figaro meowed once in reply, as much as to say: "_I know you will._"

While Terence and Pinocchio were occupied with Figaro, Jiminy turned away from them, just to speak privately with the Blue Fairy for a moment. "Thank you, my Lady," the cricket whispered to the star that twinkled the brightest. "Thank you so much, for everything. It sure was nice of you to…"

He stopped in mid-sentence as an unexpected ray of light shone all about him. It was the same light that had filled Terence and Pinocchio's room before. "Huh?" he cried, at a loss of what was going on. "Wh-wha…?"

Then, looking down at himself, he saw that he had a shiny, spiffy new badge pinned to his front, fashioned out of eighteen-karat gold. Engraved on the front, in big, bold letters, were the following words: OFFICIAL CONSCIENCE. The ethereal light faded as quickly as it had come, but the badge remained, the moon reflecting dazzlingly off its polished surface. "Well, I'll be—!" Jiminy exclaimed euphorically as he regarded his little brooch, no doubt a gift from the Fairy herself. The cricket had always wanted a badge to call his own, particularly a gold one, and now here it was: a sign of authenticity of his role as Pinocchio's conscience.

Upon hearing Jiminy shout out, Terence and Pinocchio came swiftly to his side, with Figaro cradled in Pinocchio's arms. "Is everything all right, Jiminy?" Terence asked.

"Couldn't be better!" Jiminy gushed. "Look at this, everybody! Look-it!" He puffed out his chest like a peacock.

"What's this?" Terence knelt and bent down a bit to see better, and Pinocchio leaned over Terence's shoulder. "'Official…conscience'," Terence murmured aloud.

"That's right," said Jiminy elatedly, "courtesy of Miss Blue Fairy!"

"What does this mean?" Pinocchio asked.

"It means I'm now your conscience, Pinoke, in every sense of the word! This here badge determines it is all now lock, stock, and barrel!"

"Really?" said Pinocchio, brightening up once again.

"Yes, sir-ree!" Jiminy gave the thing a quick buff with his sleeve as he added, "And it's solid gold, too!"

"Well, congratulations, Jiminy," Terence smiled. "That's quite an honor."

"You better believe it, Terence!"

Figaro meowed, as though he agreed. Pinocchio continued to hold his beloved pet close, while Terence gathered Pinocchio once more into his loving arms and Jiminy leaped onto the young man's shoulder.

Together, they gazed at the one star one last time, and Jiminy said fondly, "Oh, I think it's swell."

They remained in a reverent silence, for a few short moments more.

An odder-looking bunch you never saw anywhere: a cricket, a white-haired young man, a wooden boy turned human, and a scrappy black kitten. Yet, notwithstanding their differences, they were the same in heart and mind. Together, united by love, they were one family. Through that love, they would find light in the dark shadows of their lives, find solace from their sorrows, and their unseen wounds would be healed.

Until the day came when he saw his old father again, Pinocchio found comfort and joy in the pure, simple knowledge that he would always have Terence and Jiminy with him, to bear him up when he stumbled, to keep him safe, and to love him and nurture him. As for Terence, he now had a reason for living, a purpose that was well worth the upholding. As Pinocchio's guardian, he was determined to do whatever it took to remain worthy of such a title.

No matter what the future held for them, they knew if they held on together, they would make it.

And so it is that our story of these characters draws to an end. Yet, as the old saying goes, the ending is, more often than not, just the beginning.

**~ THE END ~**

* * *

_I'll be your candle on the water  
My love for you will always burn  
I know you're lost and drifting  
But the clouds are lifting  
Don't give up, you have somewhere to turn_

_I'll be your candle on the water  
Till ev'ry wave is warm and bright  
My soul is there beside you  
Let this candle guide you  
Soon you'll see a golden stream of light_

_A cold and friendless tide has found you  
Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down  
I'll paint a ray of hope around you  
Circling in the air  
Lighted by a prayer_

_I'll be your candle on the water  
This flame inside of me will grow  
Keep holding on, you'll make it  
Here's my hand, so take it  
Look for me, reaching out to show  
As sure as rivers flow  
I'll never let you go_

_I'll never let you go  
I'll never let you go…_

"**Candle on the Water" ~ as sung by Helen Reddy **


End file.
